


At Least It Was Here

by nyclove3



Category: Community
Genre: F/M, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Post-Season/Series 03, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-09-23
Updated: 2016-03-22
Packaged: 2017-11-14 22:05:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 72,455
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/519991
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nyclove3/pseuds/nyclove3
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post Season 3 finale. What happens when Jeff and Annie meet unexpectedly while on vacation in Europe? Nothing. Right?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> **Disclaimer:** Me no own Community. Me stupid.
> 
>  **A/N:** Loosely based on a LJ prompt by claymay83 who requested Jeff and Annie having a passionate European fling. I've rated this 'Mature' for future chapters but the majority of it will be rated T. Additional characters stated in the tags will appear in later chapters. Title based on Community's theme song but you knew that already. Duh doy! I hope you enjoy it and thanks for reading. :)

“All done!”

Annie marches out of her bedroom clutching a purple notebook and pen, a spring in her step as she wanders over to Troy and Abed watching re-runs of _Saved by the Bell_. Just like any other day when they're absorbed in one of their usual TV marathons, they barely pay her much attention as she perches on the arm of Abed's recliner, the leather of the seat squeaking as she moves. She's quite happy to sit there for a moment though, and steals some popcorn from the bowl settled on the foot-rest between them.

“That’s not sweet.”

Scrunching her face in distaste, Annie dusts her hands of salt grains. “Uh, yeah. I got that, Abed. Thanks.”

“You’re welcome,” he says, staring at the TV with an unblinking sort of focus. “Have you got that list? Let me see it.”

Annie sighs in a put-upon and slightly exaggerated way but hands him the notebook anyway because if she's learned one thing living with Abed, it's when not to put up a fight. She chooses her battles wisely now.

“I don’t know why you want to read it," she says, somewhat irritated. "I’m capable of planning my own trip.”

“You do have exceptional organizational skills and you’re incredibly anal about making plans.”

"Aww. Thank you!"

“Anal _,_ ” Troy chuckles around a mouthful of popcorn. “Butts.”

“But,” Abed continues, finger ceiling-bound for a second. “You’re lacking experience.”

“Abed, you’ve never even left the state.”

“I watch movies. They tell me everything I need to know.”

“Oh.” Annie frowns, patting his shoulder softly. “That’s kind of sad.”

“Not really,” he shrugs, eyes still not straying from the screen. Not that she can blame him. Zack and Kelly were getting married and she always loves when Screech catches the bouquet. From the dreamy look on his face, Troy does too.

“You know, you guys could still come with me.” Her fingers dance lightly as she sings, “It’ll be _fuuuuun_.”

“Thanks Annie, but I have plans this week, you know, doing stuff…” Troy fingers the neck of his t-shirt nervously. “With Britta.”

"Oooh," she grins, raising one shoulder to cheek and batting her eyelashes playfully. “Plans, huh?”

He rolls his eyes. “Yes. Plans.”

Annie nudges Abed with her elbow. “What about you?”

“I don’t have plans with Britta.”

“No, I didn’t mean…” she sighs, and reapplies a tight smile. “I’m asking if you’d like to come away, silly.”

“No thanks. Europe is at least seven hours ahead of us and that just doesn’t make sense to me. I’m not comforted by the thought of going ahead in time, at least not without some sort of flux capacitor or D.A.R.S.I.T. Or maybe even a Trimaxian Drone Ship from the planet Phaelon.”

There’s a heavy pause as Annie and Troy glance at each other a little lost for words but both decide to just let it go.

This happens a lot.

“O-kay, well, it doesn’t matter. Obviously I'll miss you guys but I know I’m going to have a great time, even on my own.” She wriggles with an excited little clap that belies the nerves she feels at the very thought. “I’ve got so much planned.”

“Yes, I can see that.” Abed peers down at her notebook, one finger jabbing a line of swirly handwriting. “Why is this number one? Is this why you’re going?”

Flushing lightly, Annie tries to shrug as nonchalantly as possible but probably fails under Abed's scrutiny. He can be a little intense sometimes. And knowing. Annoyingly so.

“I’ve not listed things on a scale of importance, Abed. It’s just random things I’d like to do. So I want to have a summer romance with a sexy European man. Who doesn’t?”

“Uh,” Troy scoffs. "I don’t.”

“But this is not how these things work,” Abed says, tone serious now. “You’re going to find yourself. That will never happen if you let soap-y relationship-y romance stuff get in the way.”

“Find yourself?” Troy glances away from the TV, his brow pinched in its usual groove of confusion. “Are you lost?”

“It’s just an expression, Troy. Last-minute trips abroad are usually an epic voyage of self-discovery. Think _Eat Pray Love_.”

“Oh,” he smiles warmly, reaching for another handful of popcorn and throwing a few in the air. “I loved that movie,” he finishes, shrugging to himself when he fails to catch any in his mouth.

“Hang on,” Annie starts. “In _Eat Pray Love_ she went away to find herself _and_ fell in love.”

There's a sliver of silence and stillness as her roommates both turn to look at her with more focus than she's used to, their eyebrows raised all pointed and skeptic until she shrinks backwards from the intensity.

“What?" she says, one hand rolling the air. "It’s right there in the title.”

“Hmm. So you want to find yourself and fall in love?”

“No, Abed!” Annie makes a little noise of frustration in the back of her throat as she eyes the ceiling, trying to get a handle on her rising temper. “That’s not why I’m going at all! I’m just saying that if ever there’s a time to have a wild uninhibited fling, I’d like it to happen when I’m on vacation. A girl can dream can’t she? I mean, do you have any idea how long it’s been since I’ve been on a real date?”

“As far as I’m aware, two years and three months, give or take a few days.”

Annie’s mouth pinches as tight as the snap of her arms underneath her bust.

“You’re doing that thing with your lips again.” Abed’s eyes narrow searchingly. “Are you upset? Did I say something wrong?”

“FYI. Women don’t like to be told how long it’s been since they’ve been out with a guy, Abed.”

“But you asked me.”

“It was rhetorical.”

“I don’t understand.”

"Ugh." Annie waves her hands in frustration because, as usual, this conversation is going nowhere. “Never mind. It doesn’t matter. The point is, it’s been a while since I’ve been, you know, romanced or made to feel special or desired or anything by a man and -”

“What about Jeff?”

It's a pretty innocent question, all things considered, but Annie’s mouth parts soundless and she frowns unseeingly at the wall for a long moment. _What about Jeff?_  It rolls on repeat until she realizes with a start that she’s not said anything for at least a minute, and she makes a derisive little shake of her head because there's a time for answering that question and it has long since passed.

“Abed, we’ve been through this, remember? And please. Jeff Winger’s idea of romance is a three-way in a hot-air balloon.”

Troy shrugs as he considers and his voice is all dreamy sounding when he says, “I bet the view was romantic.”

She huffs out a laugh, shaking her head all the while. “You men are all the same. It’s shocking really.”

Troy frowns in confusion but then his eyes bug wide in slow understanding, “Annie! I meant the _actual_ view like hills and trees and fluffy clouds, not…” His neck cranes a little as he studies her with a dazed sort of fascination. “Who _are_ you?”

Annie shoots her gaze to her hands preening the hem of her denim skirt, too aware of the heat suffusing her cheeks and the tips of her ears to provide any sort of answer.

“I wonder what Jeff will think of your plan to have a summer fling?” Abed tilts his head pensively. “It’s times like these I wish we still had the Dreamatorium to run through scenarios.”

The agitation she initially felt at his question fades the moment Annie notices Abed scribbling over her _perfectly planned_ _list that took her five hours to compile oh my god_ and she huffs, “He won’t think anything because a) there’s nothing _to_ think, b) he’s not even here and c) he probably wouldn’t even care. This is Jeff you're talking about. Jeff. Winger.”

Troy’s eyes narrow doubtfully. “Oh come on Annie. We’ve all seen the way he looks at you, even Shirley. She was cursing your googly eyes at dinner last week.”

Annie swallows thickly, wanting to kick herself for the little flair of hope dancing giddily in her chest. “Googly eyes _?_ Don’t be silly.”

Abed looks up from her notebook, pen poised in the air. “No, Troy’s right. I’d ask Jeff to confirm but he seems to have gone off grid. I can’t get hold of him right now.”

“Yeah, where _is_ he?” Troy asks, now picking at the missed popcorn in his lap and down the sides of his seat. “I haven’t seen him all week. Do you know?”

Annie frowns. “Why would I know where Jeff is? Your guess is as good as mine.”

“But you two are…” His head tilts and his eyebrows lift suggestively a couple of times. “You know…”

“Uh, I don’t know actually. Anyway, I’m done talking about this. I have packing to finish.” She snatches her notebook from Abed’s outstretched hand and clutches it protectively. “You better not have ruined this list, mister.”

“Ruined? No. Perfected? _Yes_.” Abed clicks the tip of his pen once, twice, three times. “Follow that list and you will have the summer to remember. A summer worthy of...” His eyes widen in excitement as he gestures a wave through the air, lowering his voice to a dramatic-sounding whisper. “...The movies.”

“Three weeks is hardly -” Annie pauses in walking to her bedroom, eyes flitting across Abed’s blue-inked scrawl. “Um, Abed…?” she starts and he swivels his chair to face her. “This is just a list of everything that happened in _National Lampoon’s European Vacation_.”

“Correct.”

“But, um, I think the point of that movie was that you’re _not_ supposed to do those things. I mean, no one can actually knock over Stonehenge with a car. It’s physically impossible.”

Abed watches her with an unfathomable unblinking expression, “Oh, well then I can’t help you,” and rotates his recliner to face the TV.

Annie shuts her bedroom door and leans against it with a heavy sigh, staring at the piles of clothes and shoes lined up neatly on her bed. If ever there was a time to go on vacation, it was now. The question wasn’t _where_ Annie should go but _when_ and why couldn’t she have left yesterday?

 

 

~x~

 

 

At a small table tucked away in the corner of Starbucks, Jeff sips at his coffee and stares absentmindedly at his phone. There's nothing familiar or comforting about his surroundings, apart from the occasional accent that has him checking over his shoulder for Ian Duncan, and it’s this unease and the British pound notes in his wallet that serves to remind him where he is and what led him here.

Another endless line of mistakes.

Deciding to find his father had been his first error. A pretty big one, too. Why did he want to find that asshole anyway? He abandoned him for a reason, right? And it’s not as if he needs to know that reason. Therapy is taxing enough as it is.

Following a random lead all the way to London – _England for fucks sake_ – had probably been his second mistake. As if his con-artist, waste-of-space father would ever make the effort to come all this way. The guy could barely muster the energy to pick him up from school. Most days he didn't. Travelling halfway across the world seems even more unlikely.

But his mom mentioned something once, flippantly, just a random observation at one of their monthly dinners about how her ex-husband had always wanted to live in Europe - more glamorous apparently - and when the web search located one of the few William Winger's in London, Jeff connected non-existent dots and threw clothes in his case and caution to the wind.

He kind of regrets that now, sitting here, miles away from home. Still fatherless, still angry about it. Probably angrier now.

His fist curls at the thought and nope. He really does not want to keep thinking about this. As much as it still shocks him to admit sometimes, he needs his friends around him. He needs to _not_ be alone right now. The sooner he heads home the better.

It’s already been a tough year and he hasn’t even had the whole summer to recuperate. Re-taking Bio 101 and a few other courses, no thanks to Chang and his stupid army of brats, has left him with less than three weeks before the fall semester. Three. Damn. Weeks. How was he supposed to get a tan that lasted all the way through winter with those kinds of odds? He's man enough to admit that he doesn't look his best when he's too pale. It's a problem.

Expelling another heavy sigh Jeff downs the rest of his coffee in one quick gulp, the cup clattering back to its matching plate with more force than necessary and startling a woman reading on a nearby table. Throwing her an apologetic smile and a flirty wink when she blushes and bites down a little smile, he stuffs his wallet and phone into his pockets and exits onto the sidewalk teeming with tourists, surrounded by a city noise somehow so different than Denver, though he's not sure why.

Trying not to feel dazed by the red bus as it passes on the wrong side of the street, Jeff looks left and right to find his bearings and starts towards Trafalgar Square as soon as he spots Nelson’s statue high enough in the air for him to find its direction. 

It’s not the reason he’s here but he should probably, at some point, buy a map to get around easier except he doesn’t want to look like a tourist. Or a douchebag. It’s the same reason he doesn’t carry a book-bag at college or an umbrella when it rains, even though those are both looks he would rock if he gave them half a chance.

When the square eventually comes into view, Jeff stops for a moment, ignoring the nudge and knock of people as they try to pass him by. He's not ashamed to admit he's a little taken aback by the sight before him with the crowds and the buildings only familiar to him from movies and TV - and _holy crap_ he’s in London and he’s whining about his deadbeat dad? Shaking his head lightly, he pulls out his phone and takes a picture of the statue surrounded by four bronze lions and the fountains as discreetly as possible before uploading it to Twitter and finally tweeting his whereabouts with a  _“Surprise, guess where I am?”_

He regrets it a minute later.

It’s just… He hasn’t actually told any of his friends where he is. He’s not sure why, maybe because it was a spur-of-the-moment decision made at 2am after one drink too many, or that none of them know he’s started looking for his father and he’s not quite ready to tell them yet; to deal with Pierce’s questions and flippant remarks about having things in common, or Britta’s offers to help ‘therapize’ him of his ‘obvious daddy issues’ or Abed noting all the long-lost father-son movie parallels.

It’s exhausting just thinking about it. 

Briefly though, he wonders what Shirley would have to say about this whole dad thing. She’d probably give him a hug that was too long and too understanding – the kind of hug he’d gotten far too used to this past year – and a brownie he would throw in the trash when she wasn’t looking _._ And then he thinks of Annie and what she might say, and his heart races just a little as he remembers the last time he saw her. It was one of their bi-weekly potluck dinners at apartment 303 and the table was covered in half-eaten dishes that should never be eaten together, and there was music and alcohol and laughter in the air. Annie had looked at him for some reason he can't really remember now, blue eyes wide and tempting across the table, the pink flush to her cheeks he still can't find anything but endearing, the bite of her glossed lips more seductive than she probably realized and _damn_ , that woman can throw him off track, even thousands of miles away.

It's a nice reprieve though, from his other thoughts. 

He reaches a road crossing then, and falls behind the rest of the waiting crowd all bottlenecked and pressed close, smiling at the little red man on the traffic signal and waiting for it to turn green. His phone vibrates in his pocket a second later and Jeff quickly presses view, eagerly anticipating the flood of comments and questions from his friends. Instead he frowns, more than a little disheartened by the single reply he receives.

 **@JeffWingerAtLaw** Is that London? Spoiler Alert.

 _Yeaaahhh_ …he has no idea what that even means but then again, this _is_ Abed. 


	2. Chapter 2

The sky is awash with orange when Annie arrives in London, the sun streaming brightly over a cloudless horizon as her train pulls into Paddington station. Once she's managed to drag her huge backpack onto the platform, she stops to lift it onto her back, tugging on the straps and allowing herself a minute to get her balance as she takes a long look around.

There are hundreds of people around her and the franticness of all the early morning commuters and tourists’ walking across the concourse from every direction is a little disconcerting. Steeling her nerves, Annie rolls her head back with a deep steadying breath but her eyes open wide at the vastness of the arched iron ceiling above and she suddenly feels very small and a little, well, lost.

She’s made a huge mistake.

The anxiety of it cuts sharp in her chest - the same nervous kind of dread she usually gets before an important test - and it hits her just how impulsive she's been, along with all the reasons she came on this trip.

Her stupid list.

Mentally she runs through all the points she spent so long researching but if she's honest with herself, she doesn’t want to be alone in a foreign country. She doesn’t need to be spontaneous or have a summer fling with some handsome European man – as if that would _ever_ happen. Psssh. Finding men that actually like her enough to hang around is impossible apparently. She should just head back to the airport and go home. That doesn’t make her a failure. It just means she’s being sensible, and finally acknowledging the things she simply cannot do.

 _That_ is growth right there.

Still, there’s a tiny part of her that thinks about all the money she’s spent – money she didn’t really have - and when she does a quick mental tally, her rational side winces at all the sensible things she could have purchased instead, like books and food supplies and that rattling noise in her car should be fixed at some point. Then there was the ten hour flight and all the sights she’s planned to see, and _oh god_ she promised to buy those oversized Union Jack hats for Troy and Abed…

She makes a decision then, even though her heart is in her throat and she left her stomach in the train restroom. Straightening her spine, she fastens both hands around the straps of her backpack until her grip is white, and with a quick nod she heads for the exit, fear and anticipation snapping at her heels.

 

 

~x~

 

 

Armed with his newly downloaded map app, Jeff wanders out of Waterloo station following the signs to the London Eye on the bank of the Thames. He pauses to observe his surroundings for a moment; the white wheel towering above him casting patterned shadows on the river, and the crowds making the most of the sunshine on the small patch of grass the greenest he’s ever seen.

It’s all very nice as much as a giant wheel and a bit of grass can be but he can’t help but feel numb to it all - dejected, if he had to label the emotion, but he doesn't because that would mean thinking about it. Instead he starts towards the line trailing out of the ticket office, throwing a distracted glance around the area and -

_Wait._

_Is that…?_

_No. It couldn’t be._

She wouldn’t be in London and if she was, he would know about it. _  
_

Her hair is like Annie’s though – soft, thick and straight – and the figure wrapped snugly in a tiny blue sundress certainly looks like Annie’s, at least his pulse seems to think so. He watches as she fusses with the purse strapped across her torso and pulls out a map, unfolding it slowly, her finger following some unknown path before she looks across the river and back again. She’s a little closer now and it’s a moment before Jeff realizes _he’s_ the one on the move, and with every step he takes his heart quickens with a growing flair of certainty. Red ballet flats. Pale lithe legs. Annie’s boobs. _Oh yes_. Anticipation fires deep in his gut and by the time he reaches her, the grin is etched wide across his cheeks because _she’s_ _here_. It’s - 

“Annie?”

She jumps a little, and the map crumples in her fist as she spins, all bug-eyed as she squeaks out, “Jeff!”

“What are you…?” They both speak at once and there's a timidness in the note of Annie's laugh while Jeff shakes his head in amusement, gesturing for her to continue while he removes his sunglasses and hooks them into his jeans pocket. He wants to look at her, _really_ look at her.

"What?" Annie blinks dazedly, seeming at a loss for words. “When...Why?”

“Wow. Annie Edison loses the ability to articulate." He winks, extra smug when he says, "I’ve still got it.”

She rolls her eyes but there’s amusement dancing there as she swats at him playfully. “Jeff Winger, what the hell are you doing here?”

Jeff shrugs, choosing to ignore the twinge in his chest because he's really not ready to talk about that yet. “Kind of a long boring story. What about you? I didn’t know you were coming here.”

He winces inwardly, hoping she hadn’t already told him and he wasn’t listening. In his defense, there’s only so much a guy can listen to excitable girly rambles or feminist rants or cloying monologues before he switches off. Self-preservation and all that.

“It was a spur of the moment thing.” Her hand flutters in a tiny nonchalant wave and Jeff figures that's all the explanation he's getting for now.

“But I could say the same for you, mister," she continues. "Troy and Abed were cooking up all sorts of conspiracy theories as to why you’d gone off grid.”

"Conspiracy theories?"

"Well, I use that term loosely. They mostly involved you being kidnapped and tied up by the Dean."

She winces and shudders as if the thought is just as unpleasant to her as it is to him right now.

"Yeaaahhh, I'm just gonna ignore that horrifying mental picture and remind you that I tweeted my whereabouts yesterday.”

“Oh, well, some of us aren’t glued to Twitter as much as _some_ people," she teases. "You could say that some of us have better things to do with our time.”

“I’m not even going to dignify that with a response.” He grins at her epic eye roll and glances around at the people walking along the embankment with maps and cameras and widening eyes. “So, where _are_ the wonder twins?” he asks, because he's pretty sure they should have run up and greeted his presence by now.

“Oh, I’m not here with Troy and Abed," Annie says, matter-of-factly. "I asked them if they wanted to come but. Well. It's a long story.”

“Don’t tell me you actually travelled with Britta. _Annie, Annie, Annie_. Have you learned nothing at all?”

“If you must know, I’m here alone.”

His smile fades at that and his stomach swoops low in the usual mix of protective concern he only ever really feels for her. “By. Yourself?”

“That’s usually what being alone means.”

“ _Annie_.”

“Jeff.” Her voice drops in warning. “You don’t need to treat me like a kid, remember?”

“Yeah, I get that. Believe me, I do. But adults still need to be protected. I can’t help but worry about you sometimes.” He falters briefly at the words and wonders where the hell they came from, and licks his lips to stall a moment longer.

“You’re important to me,” he goes on, watching her eyes widen and his do too, because apparently he's lost his inner censor here in London, probably somewhere along with his cool and all of his dignity. “I mean, you think Spaghetti was bad, they had Jack the Ripper here.”

Annie laughs softly, shaking her head all the while, and somehow Jeff feels a small break in the anger he’s been carrying around for the last three days. It's almost like a breath of relief.

“That was well over a hundred years ago Jeff, and I’m pretty sure he only killed prostitutes but thanks.”

She eyes him silently for the briefest of moments before squeaking girlishly in the back of her throat and thrusting her body against his in a rush of happiness. Her cheek pressed against his chest, her tiny hands sweep up to clutch at his back despite the map wrinkled in her grip.

He’s momentarily surprised but enfolds her tighter, closer, sinking into her embrace and the scent of her because he needed this and he wasn't even aware of that fact until now. Jeff's not sure how long they stand like that but he can feel her fingers drifting slowly back and forth on the small of his back, the thud of her heart against him. His thumb brushes the soft skin of her spine just above her sundress, not intentionally at first, but when he feels her shiver slightly he does it again. When Annie eventually pulls back her cheeks are a little flushed and maybe his are too.

 _Maybe_.

“What was that for?”

She shrugs, tucking a lock of loose hair behind her ear and staring at her feet for a moment. “Nothing, it’s just really nice to see you.”

He smiles wide at that because he honestly couldn’t agree more.

“When..." she continues, hesitant. "When I decided to come here on my own I didn’t account for maybe feeling a bit, I don't know -”

“Lonely?”

She nods, though Jeff can tell she doesn't really want to, like she's annoyed by the admittance.

“Don’t get me wrong, I’m fine but…” She sighs and stares at the river with a frown. “Earlier I was in Trafalgar Square looking up at Nelson’s column and it was wonderful but I just kind of wished there was someone there to share it with, to say _“hey, Annie, this is nice”_ or something like that. It’s ridiculous. I only arrived this morning. Oh god, does that make me pathetic? It does. I’m pathetic Annie Edison.”

“No, I'm pretty sure it makes you human. It’s only the first day, Annie. Cut yourself some slack.” He hesitates for a second - he's not great at this whole 'comfort your friends' thing - before he strokes her upper arm and pats it in a gesture he hopes is soothing. “Travelling alone is a big deal.”

The smile crawling across her cheeks makes his insides flip and tumble and they stare at each other longer than necessary – in all the ways he’s used to now and all the ways he's not – until Annie tears her gaze away to focus on refolding her map. Jeff’s heart feels like it might crash through his chest because _holy crap_ she looks so pretty and tempting and she’s _here_.

_And he's missed her._

He's not sure why that surprises him the most but it does.

“So, I’m about to go on that thing,” he says, changing the subject, and points to the giant wheel behind them. “You up for it?”

She tilts her head to study him like she's searching for something, eyes squinting in the sunlight, and he's not sure what she finds.

“It’s okay, Jeff. You don’t need to keep me company. As you said, it’s only the first day. I’m fine.”

His chest tightens at the thought that she thinks so little of him and he hates it.

“Annie. You really think I’d want to go off around London on my own knowing you’re here?”

“Well, I…I just don’t want you to think I said all that to manipulate you into hanging out with me. Because I didn’t. At all.”

“But here’s the thing, Annie. I want to hang out with you.” He mock gasps against his fingertips. “Shocking, I know.” He grins as she folds her arms across her chest, her eyes twinkling amusedly while she sizes him up. “We have fun together, right?”

“Yes.”

She draws out the word a little too slowly for his liking and he has to smother the irritation and compulsive need to know _why_ because he cares what she thinks about him. But really, at this moment in time, it doesn’t matter because she’s here in London, of all places, and she’s brightened his day – his week even. Shit, her smile has kind of been a light throughout this whole damn dark year if he thought about it, which he doesn’t because he’s Jeff Winger and he doesn’t have a vagina.

Instead he fixes his most charming smile. “And I’m guessing you’re here for a sightseeing ride too?”

She smirks, like she knows exactly what he's doing. “You guess correctly.”

“Well, then.” He offers her the crook of his arm. “Milady?”

 

 

~x~

 

 

Annie steps closer to the glass.

Looking out across the Thames she can barely tell the capsule is moving and only realizes how far they’ve risen when she focuses on the river below. She stares at the swish and sway of the water, all too aware of her pulse - erratic - thanks to the man beside her, his bare arm brushing hers with every breath.

Feeling a little numb she pinches the skin on the back of her hand, rolling it between thumb and forefinger until it’s stinging red and she shivers and winces at the pain.

She’s not delusional. She's not imagining things.

Jeff _is_ here and he did say her name in a way new to her ears and the relief on his face was palpable. It was almost like he was…pleased to see her. And the things he said… She’s never felt important to anyone, not even to her own parents, and hearing that made her heart skip. It's skipping now, just thinking about it. And _god_ , the way he clung to her… She can still feel his hand hot against her back as if he burned her. She’d check for marks if she could.

It all feels like one of Abed’s alternate timelines, except it’s not. Because that would be stupid.

“Are we moving? Is this thing moving?” Jeff taps the glass with his knuckles. “Annie, I think it’s broken.”

She grins, startled from her reverie. “Don’t be silly, look,” she says, and points at the water slowly drifting further beneath them.

“Yeaaahhh…all I’m seeing is the water - oh wait, now it’s moving.” He meets her smile before scanning the view, nudging her arm with his elbow. “So, what exactly are we looking at?”

“How would I know?”

He eyes her dubiously, one brow raised. “You expect me to believe you didn’t read every book on London before you left?” Her cheeks flush as she fusses with the zip on her purse and he grins. “I knew it.”

“FYI Jeff, it wasn’t _every_ book, it was just one and I skimmed through it.”

“Mmm-hmm. Sure.”

“I knew we should have paid for the audio tour,” she mutters, ignoring the feel of his gaze and the knowing lilt to his lips. “Now let’s see. Well, obviously that building with the gothic architecture...” She presses a fingertip against the glass. “...Is the Houses of Parliament, otherwise known as the Palace of Westminster.”

“Skim read, huh?”

“Yes," she says, chin high and defiant. "It’s a useful time-saving technique for studying and you actually absorb more information than you realize.” He grins at her amusedly. “Oh shut up.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“You didn’t have to, judgey face.” Her eye catches something other than his amusement and she gasps and pats his forearm, the movement quick and distracted. “Oooh oooh Big Ben, Jeff! Oh, it’s amazing! Pictures, I need pictures.” She delves into her purse for her camera, bouncing enthusiastically, stealing a glance in his direction and halting at the look on his face. “What?”

“Nothing, it’s just being this excited about a clock shouldn’t be this adorable.”

“It’s not just any clock, it’s…” His eyebrows rise expectantly. “It’s, you know, a famous British one that chimes and stop looking at me like that. As if you could describe it any better.”

“I bet I can.”

“Oh really?” She fiddles with the focus button on the camera. “This I’d like to hear.”

He shrugs, “Okay,” and pulls out a small London Eye guidebook from the back pocket of his jeans.

“Cheat!” she gasps. “And really? Am I seeing this right now? Jeff Winger bought a guidebook, to read, _willingly_? It must be the apocalypse or something.”

“Well, it is 2012.” He pauses and thrusts it at her. “I bought this for you, dummy.”

Annie’s eyes bug wide as she holds the booklet to her chest. “For me?”

“Annie, it cost like £1. It was nothing. Stop with the face.”

“The face?”

“Yeah, you know, the Disney face with the big fluttering eyes and the…lips…” His gaze drops to her mouth and he swallows hard, shifting further away.

Annie bites the inside of her cheek to keep from smiling but she can't think of his reaction right now. She doesn't even want to, not with the kind of view sitting there waiting for her. Pointing her camera in all directions, she snaps away excitedly, zooming in and out on as many landmarks as possible, re-taking shots when the flash is reflected on the glass or a fellow tourist in the capsule nudges her and ruins the shot. Although the view is a little hazy from the heat, it stretches wide across London and beyond and Annie feels a little burst of joy inside her, like she’s truly accomplished something.

Then she remembers she’ll be able to cross this off her list and she feels even better.

It's been quiet between them for a while when Annie eventually glances at Jeff across the capsule where he's leaning against the railing, phone in hand. He’s already focused on her, his expression verging on wistful and so unexpectedly tender that the breath catches in her throat. His smile crawls slowly to meet his eyes, wrinkling the fragile skin in the corners, and Annie hopes his vanity never reaches them, never wants to erase the lines she likes so much there. They furrow deeper as he smiles wider and Annie steels the inclination to look away, smiling back just as brightly, holding his gaze as she treads closer without any control of her feet.

Noting the fleeting graze of his eyes down and back up the length of her body - he's done that a lot today, much to her surprise - Annie has to swallow hard to drown the dance of butterflies in her chest. She can control everything else but the damn butterflies. She’s filled, startled almost, with the impulse to kiss him, her lips near tingling in anticipation, and wonders if that’s wise. It’s not a new impulse by any means and she knows Jeff cares about her in his own way, but he's clearly not going to act on his attraction and she’s accepted that, mostly.

Still, her resolve weakens, just a whisper, a heartbeat, when he looks at her like _that_. It always does.

Their bodies now inches apart, Jeff’s Adam’s apple bobs repeatedly as Annie reaches out to him, hand edging closer and closer, and even she’s unaware of its path until her fingers curl around the sunglasses still hooked in his pocket. His stomach muscles tense beneath the t-shirt stretched tight there, his eyebrows rising in disbelief as she plucks at them and settles them over her eyes.

“Do you mind if I borrow these? It’s bright up here.”

He huffs out a shocked breathy laugh of delight. “Uh, yes. I do actually. They’re Armani. You break them, Edison, you pay.”

“Oh, well that’s never gonna happen.”

She removes the glasses quickly, taking a second to study the small gold symbol on the temple part of the frame, and hooks them back into his jeans. She doesn't linger but she still feels a little burst of adrenaline when Jeff inhales sharply at the graze of her fingertips against the solidness of his hip.

She's never touched him there before.

There's heat and intent in his eyes and his voice is a little croaky when he asks, “And why’s that?”

Annie steps backwards and thrusts her hands behind her back, trying to shake out the tingles in her fingertips. “Armani? I couldn’t afford it. This trip cost so much money I’ll be eating buttered noodles for the rest of my life.”

Jeff blinks at her for a few startled moments before his nose wrinkles in disgust. “Mmm. Tasty.”

“Hey, don’t knock it till you’ve tried it. Abed doesn’t know how to tie shoelaces properly but he sure knows how to make buttered noodles.”

Their eyes meet and they laugh away the moment lightly as they move to wedge side by side, curling their hands around the silver railing and turning their attention back to the view as the wheel slowly begins its descent.

After a few minutes of silence listening to the low chatter in the capsule as they watch the sun glint off the river below, Jeff bumps her shoulder with his. 

“This is nice.”

Annie’s heart flutters madly and she returns the gesture all too happily.

“Yeah, it really is,” she says, watching the smile stretch across Jeff's face.

“This thing is like a Ferris wheel, right? Can we just go round again?”

She smiles, beams at him actually. “I don’t think it works like that.”

“Shame.”

 

 

~x~

 

 

A few hours later, as the heat of the day wanes around them, Jeff watches the small screen on Annie’s digital camera, smiling as she makes a funny pose beside one of the Royal Foot Guards in his regulation red tunic and bearskin hat. Jeff chuckles as she does a little jig, hips wiggling, shimmying back and forth and _holy crap_ her parts were made to do that. At the man’s non response, she sighs extra loud and wanders over to reclaim her camera, shaking her head the whole way.

“Well, I tried to make him laugh but it’s like he’s made of stone or something.” She glances back at the Guard with narrowed eyes, lips twisting in thought. “I wonder if he’s gay.”

Jeff splutters a laugh. “What?”

“Well, I thought for sure the boob shimmy would get some kind of reaction but nothing. Nada.”

Jeff can't exactly help the drop of his gaze to the pale expanse of her cleavage exposed a little more than usual in her strappy sundress, and swallows down a growl.

“Annie. They’re trained not to react. It’s not personal. The boob shimmy was _all good_ , don’t worry.” Her eyes widen in surprise but there’s a seductive amusement there that he's finding pretty intoxicating in her constant presence. “And, you know, I laughed.”

“Were you laughing _at_ me or _with_ me?”

“What’s the difference?”

“There’s a difference! I just can’t be bothered to explain right now.” She heaves a weary sigh as they fall in step together along the path towards The Mall. “Ugh. My feet are killing me. Sightseeing is really tiring.”

“That and the ten hour flight and seven hour time difference.” Jeff smiles softly. “I bet you were awake the night before too, re-checking your travel list.”

“Meh. I’ll sleep when I’m dead. And you have no proof.” She eyes him sheepishly and adds, “About the list thing.”

"Look," he chuckles as he checks his watch. “We’ve seen a lot today. I’ll take you back to your hotel and you could have a bath and a rest before dinner or. _.._ whatever makes me sound less like an old woman. Jesus.”

She laughs, though it sort of turns into a snort. “ _Psssh_. I wish. But the hostel I’m staying at has a claustrophobic shower cubicle and a shared dorm. I doubt I’d get much sleepy time there.”

“Wait. What? You can’t be serious.”

“As a heart attack, Jeff. It’s like _this_ big.” She gestures a width no bigger than her body and turns to him with a smile, frowning immediately at his silence. “What?”

“You’re staying in a _hostel_?” The word sounds as distasteful as he feels saying it.

“I can’t afford hotels. I thought that was obvious.”

“Well, yeah, I guess it should have been but…is it safe?”

Annie rolls her eyes, and walks on a little more forcefully than she has been the last hour or so. “Jeff, your overprotective brother routine is really tiresome and when I’m exhausted, it’s really annoying. Please don’t ruin our perfect day.”

“WHAT.” Jeff’s jaw slackens for a moment. “You think I’m acting like your _brother_?”

Her brother…?

_What. The. Fuck._

Annie's mouth opens and closes a couple of times, seeming lost for words. “Well, not ex-”

“I can’t win.” Jeff halts suddenly and Annie does too, staring at him half confused and half concerned as he starts talking to himself in an almost frantic ramble. “First everyone moans that I don’t care enough about anything but myself and when I finally do, that’s… _annoying_? Seriously?!"

"Um." Annie’s eyes dart between him and the people watching them curiously as they pass. “Jeff, I -”

“And you know the way I feel about you is nothing like a brother, Annie so just… Don’t.”

He swipes his fingers across his forehead in agitation and tries to calm himself down. Damn her ability to get under his skin and stay there. It’s like ignoring his texts all over again.

“I…” She swallows thickly. “I know.”

Their gazes meet and fuse, heated and intent, and Jeff feels his muscles tense at the atmosphere between them, that perceptible shift into something more that always happens whenever they’re alone. It would be so easy to kiss her right now, really fucking kiss her with his hands in her hair and his tongue in her mouth - the way he’s wanted to ever since he saw her standing beside the River Thames, the breeze toying with the dress around her thighs. The feeling had lingered all day, following him across the river and every step on the marble floor around Westminster Abbey, when he was overwhelmed by the cool quiet and stain-glass windows and the burning impulse to hold her hand.

But he didn’t and he can’t. Not when the wariness flares in her eyes as he treads towards her without any real conscious thought. He knows then that he’s got something to prove. He's not exactly sure what that is but it feels important in a way that not many things do nowadays.

“Look, I don’t mean to be like this but. You're my friend and it’s just…” He scrubs a palm down the scuff of his jaw, his sigh weary and undone. “Have you seen the movie _Hostel_? It’s horrifying.”

She laughs in surprise, the shade of wariness slipping away as she shakes her head softly, and Jeff has to restrain the urge to brush away the hair from her face and the few strands somehow clinging to the gloss of her lips in the low breeze.

“No. I haven’t seen it.”

“Well, don’t because you’d never want to stay in a hostel again. Seriously. Abed would agree with me.”

She grins, the breeze brushing her hair away for him. “You do realize I’ve got to go back to my hostel later, right? And freaking me out is not exactly filling me with joy about that right now.”

“Sorry,” he chuckles around a wince, but there's a break in the tension. He can feel it ease away from his shoulders. “Subject change?”

“Uh, yes. Good idea.”

When they reach The Mall a few minutes later, Annie pauses to take a picture of the road leading to Buckingham Palace before they walk in the opposite direction towards Trafalgar Square. The street is filled with more black cabs than they can count and there’s a row of Union Jack flags flapping lightly above them in the late afternoon breeze.

Jeff eyes the blue sky dappled between the shade of trees. “So… good weather we’re having.”

Annie laughs, “Is that the best you’ve got?” and shoves him playfully. 

His teasing smile fades as he registers what he’s about to do and he’s hit with a momentary surge of adrenaline as he says, “Do you want to hear my long boring story as to why I’m here?”

“Oooh, now we’re talking. Way to sell it, Jeff.”

“I started looking for my dad.”

Her head snaps to him comically fast, eyes wide as she utters “ _Jeff_ ” on a low and breathless whisper.

“Yeah,” he laughs uncomfortably. “It shocked me too. Still does actually.”

“But…why?” Annie blinks up at him. “You’ve always been so adamant about not wanting to meet him.”

“Why? I guess I need to know who he is and ask him why he left. I need to look him in the eye and tell him how much I hate him for what he did because I can’t keep it inside anymore. I need to move on.” He says it more decisively than he feels and notes her lips twisting thoughtfully. “You look like you’ve got something to say. Do you think I’m doing the wrong thing?” His pulse quickens just a little and he hates how...vulnerable he sounds, how much he needs to hear what she thinks.

“Oh god no!” She hastens to grip his arm tight, tucking her fingers just inside his elbow. “I’m behind you one hundred per cent if this is what you want. And I think it’s great that you want to let your anger go because it’s so toxic Jeff, and you deserve better than that. I guess…I guess I’m just wondering what changed.”

Jeff releases a deep breath as they make their way past St James’s Park, his eyes following the families out on the grass with their picnic blankets of happiness and he turns to her with a shrug.

“I did.”

It doesn't feel as simple as it sounds.

Annie searches his face eagerly but she looks like she’s just seeing him for the first time, like some kind of wall has fallen away, her smile soft like she’s proud of him or something and maybe he’s proud too.

_Maybe._

“And London? I mean, why here?”

“Well, my mom tried to find him for child support once, and got in contact with my grandmother. She didn’t know where he was either because surprise, I’m not the only one he abandoned.” His fist clenches – what he wouldn’t give for a few pillows to punch right now. “All she had was one letter from him posted from London and when I checked online there were a couple of William Winger's that lived here. And that’s pretty much it. That’s why I’m here.” Jeff watches the flurry of expressions and questions cross her face. “Not what you expected is it?”

“Um. No. I just thought you came here to be with a lover or something. You know, like those guys who have women at every airport.”

He huffs out a laugh again. “I’m pretty sure that’s only Pilots but no, Annie. I don’t have a lover here _._ Or you know, anywhere.”

“O-kay.” She fusses with the strap of her purse, smoothing its red imprint on her shoulder. “Do you, I mean, have you found…?”

Jeff shakes his head, dejected by the thought. “It was a long shot anyway because the letter was from twenty years ago and the man’s a con-artist. It was probably a misdirect. But I just thought…maybe…” He sighs again, scrubbing fingers across his forehead.

“You hoped you’d find something.”

“Yeah. I allowed myself to hope and it got me nowhere,” he huffs bitterly, sneakers scuffing the path with too much force. “I hate this feeling. I _hate_ it.”

He's about to lose himself in an endless hate-filled ramble that usually happens every time he thinks about his father, when Annie prises his clenched fist apart, weaving her fingers cautiously through his. Jeff jolts at the contact at first but then her thumb brushes his in a soothing caress and his shoulders relax and he has to swallow down his surprise at how nice it feels, holding hands with his good friend Annie Edison. It's unexpected.

She’s blushing when their eyes meet but there's a hesistance there, like she's not sure if she did the right thing.

Jeff's not sure either.

Annie clears her throat as if to shake off the awkwardness, or maybe just pretend it didn't happen. Either way, he's glad. The less attention drawn to it, the better.

Probably.

“How...how long have you been searching for him?”

“About a week. I started online first but I’ve only been in London for three days.”

Annie curls her free hand around his forearm, rubbing comfortingly. “You’ve only just started, of course you’re hopeful. And you know what? That’s okay. God, if there’s no hope what else is there?”

He smiles slowly, and he can't keep the affection out of his eyes as they sweep the side of her face. “Anyone ever tell you how amazing you are, Annie Edison?”

Her cheeks flood with color. “Yes, actually. You. Just now.”

“That’s not often enough.”

“Well, feel free to tell me again. It’s…it’s nice.”

“Duly noted.”

Annie briefly presses her cheek against his upper arm with a contented sigh – whether for comfort he’s not sure. But he likes it.

“Thank you for telling me, Jeff, not _that_ …” she adds hastily, and they grin together quietly. “I mean, thanks for confiding in me about your dad. It means a lot to me that you feel you can do that.”

Jeff studies their interlinked hands, slightly mesmerized by the difference in size and how the tips of her fingers barely graze his knuckles and he smiles.

“It means a lot to me too.”


	3. Chapter 3

It’s a little after nine the next morning when Annie wanders out of her hostel, waving timidly at two of her dorm-mates passing her on the stairs. Yawning loudly she hooks her purse across her body and snaps at the hair elastic around her wrist, hoping the bite of it against her flesh is enough to keep her awake.

Wandering out into the sunshine, the brightness has her eyes snapping shut for a few moments to adjust. It’s early enough that it’s still fairly cool and Annie wonders if a camisole and denim shorts had been the best idea, especially knowing what she does about the British weather.

She’s deliberating whether to grab her hoodie _just in case_ when she blinks in surprise at the sight of Jeff slouched against the metal railings beside the road, holding two Starbucks cups and looking off into the distance.

He must catch her movement in his periphery as he turns and straightens immediately, his smile widening as she ambles towards him. His eyes are obscured by his aviators but Annie's pulse still quickens a little, just by the sight of him now. In the shortening space between them she replays all their moments from yesterday because it's impossible not to with him standing there like that, waiting for her. The stolen looks she didn’t imagine, the hugs they held just a little too long, and the hand holding she wasn’t consciously aware of until their fingers laced tightly. And when she thinks of how he willingly confided in her about his Dad, her heart races harder.

She wishes it didn't.

"Hey. I thought we were meeting at Charing Cross?"

"And I thought you might need this," Jeff says, and hands over a still-warm recyclable cup.

“Aww. That’s so sweet. Thank you.” She smiles gratefully, miming a clinking 'cheers!' with the cup before taking a sip. It's a little bitter but warm and much better than the cheap vending machine coffee she could barely stomach that morning. “Mmm. You were right. I _did_ need this.”

“Yeah." He chuckles softly. "You were kind of out of it by the time I got you back here last night.”

Annie hopes the wince doesn't show on her face. The first time she shared dinner with Jeff Winger, alone, and she nearly fell asleep at the table. God, it was so embarrassing.

“Yeah. I’m sorry about that. The jet lag hit me hard, I guess. I’ll be better company tonight, I promise.”

“Don't worry Annie, even half asleep you still hold a better conversation than most people. You're an overachiever in all things."

"Gee, thanks."

"Besides, I was tired too. You see, yesterday I was dragged around the whole of London with the most excitable tour guide that ever existed.”

She meets the tease of his smile. “ _Dragged?_ Wow. It’s any wonder you’re back for more today.”

“Hey, I didn’t say I didn’t like excitable tour guides. They’re kind of fun.”

“Yes, they are. And don’t worry, they’ll go easy on you today.”

He smirks. “Oh really?”

“Yep. You’ll see.” She grins and squints at him in the sunlight, shielding her eyes with a flattened palm against her forehead. “So…breakfast?”

Sipping their coffees as they fall in step along the street, they soon dissolve into random chatter about Annie’s dorm-mates and the mystery of the restless sleeper whose metal bunk-bed squeaked every time they moved – at least Annie hoped they were asleep because ew.

Around them the city traffic is heavy with a frenetic rush of morning commuters and beeping horns and Annie startles at the unexpected gush of hot air from a passing double decker bus. Jeff’s warm steadying palm on the small of her back does little to settle her.

They walk to a small café where they sit on hard plastic seats and Annie orders scrambled eggs on toast and a cup of ‘British’ tea to see what all the fuss is about, while Jeff settles on freshly squeezed orange juice and an egg white omelette, though he barely picks at it with his fork.

“Please don’t tell me you’re fasting after eating carbs last night," Annie says, after watching him with a bemused kind of interest for a while. "A few fries with your steak will hardly ruin your perfect abs.”

“That's because I ran 5k in the hotel gym this morning to ensure that never happens. I'll probably do some weights when I get back too.”

“Jeff! You’re on vacation. You need to relax. You look great as you are.”

“I never really saw this as a vacation but...” He rests his elbows on the table to lean forward a little. “You think I look great huh?”

She rolls her eyes. “You know you look good so shut up. Stop fishing for compliments.”

“I wasn’t. I was merely asking for confirmation on your previous statement.”

“Oh, here we go.” She shakes her head, focusing on buttering and slicing her toast for a moment. “Lawyer speak, aka that time when you're full of shit.”

Jeff huffs out a laugh. “Yeah, okay, I am never gonna get used to you swearing.”

“Well, if you keep making ‘statements’ like that you might have to, mister.”

He grins. “Did you just finger quote me?”

“Uh-huh. Now be quiet and eat your stupid egg whites.” She takes a generous sip of tea, eyes teasing above the rim of the cup. “Or better yet…” She trails off mischievously as she grabs a slice of toast and stuffs it into Jeff’s mouth, giggling as the shock melts into enjoyment as he chews. “You need sustenance for sightseeing. Good huh?" Annie smiles as he shrugs and then nods a little. "That’s real butter.”

The half-eaten toast hits his plate as Jeff hurriedly wipes his mouth with a paper napkin. “Annie! Do you have any idea how many calories that is?”

He takes a sip of orange juice, tongue wriggling unpleasantly around the back of his teeth, and Annie can practically see the mental calculations he's making for how many crunches he has to do later.

“You’re ridiculous.”

“If worshipping my body like a temple is ridiculous, then yes, I am. I admit it. And egg whites aren’t stupid. They’re healthy.”

“Healthy _smelthy_ ,” she scoffs. “It’s missing the best part!”

Jeff chuckles, resting his head on the heel of his hand to watch her. Annie makes a little “mmm” noise, growling as she takes a hearty exaggerated bite of her toast, wiping the butter from the corner of her mouth and licking it from her fingertip. She doesn't do it to be intentionally flirty or seductive but she still gets a little thrill when Jeff’s smile fades and his eyes darken as she releases her finger with a pop, runs the tip of her tongue around her lips for crumbs. Annie chews around a smile as he swallows audibly and digs into his breakfast without another word.

 

 

~x~

 

 

She’s wearing shorts.

Not just any shorts but tiny daisy dukes that are doing the greatest things to her ass that Jeff has ever seen. There's a tantalizing strip of worn and shredded material where her ass meets her thighs and he's pretty sure he caught a glimpse of her panties through the frayed jeans a couple of times. 

Black. They were black.

And then there’s the camisole that never really looked dangerous layered underneath those prim buttoned cardigans she usually wears and thank fuck she does. It’s not just the acres of cleavage so prominently on display, it’s the delicate bumps of her spine that he kind of wants to trace with his fingers and tongue with touches and kisses all the way up to the arch of her neck.

 _Jesus_ , he’s supposed to sightsee with her looking like this?

Strangely though, as they walk underneath the shade of trees lining the embankment, it’s her feet that Jeff can’t stop looking at – feet encased in purple low-top Converse, the white rubber of the sole scuffed and definitely not new. He's never seen Annie wearing anything like it and this carefree purple-sneaker-wearing Annie – who holds his hand and swears at him and licks her fingers seductively – is slowly driving him insane. And he doesn't know if it's something about London or something about her but he does know that it’s not going to be long before he breaks all restraint and does something stupid like push her into a phone booth and ravish her. He's just not strong enough.

“We’re here.”

The sound of Annie's voice jolts Jeff from his deep steadying breaths, and he frowns as Annie waves her hands with a flourish in the direction of the river. His gaze sweeps to the London Eye opposite and the Westminster bridge they walked across yesterday and back again.

“Annie. We’ve been here already. You can’t be _that_ tired.”

“No silly, we’re going on a boat trip. Unless you get sea sick. Do you? Because we can do something else if -”

“Annie.” His palms settle gently on her shoulders, her skin colder than he was expecting but so soft under his hands. “You want to go on a boat trip, we’ll go. Whatever you want.”

She visibly melts, like he’s just saved a puppy from drowning or some shit like that, and he can’t stop the things it does to his insides, how good it makes him feel. Annie squeaks as her excitement catches up to her finally, drawing her shoulders up with a wiggle as she claps, and after he's rolled his eyes in jest a few times they make their way to buy tickets.

Half an hour later they’re both leaning against the metal railings on the top deck of the boat, side by side, watching the embankment slowly drift past. The heat of the sun so palpable walking around the city is quickly stolen by the river breeze. Annie shivers and Jeff doesn’t think twice about putting his arm around her shoulder and ushering her close, brushing the goose-bumped flesh with the warmth of his palm. She blinks up at him beneath her lashes, surprise flashing in her eyes, cheeks a little flushed, and smiles softly in thanks, threading her arm around his waist and burrowing closer to his body heat.

It feels good. Real good.

Jeff is pretty content with the silence and the city skyline even though he has no idea what the hell he’s looking at apart from the tall dome of St Paul’s Cathedral, but then he realizes that Annie’s camera is still in her purse and she’s not rambling excitedly and telling him the history of everything there ever was. He eyes the side of her face but the angle is awkward and he can't really see anything except the flutter of her eyelashes.

“You’re quiet. You okay?”

Annie shrugs and slips out from under his arm, propping her elbows against the railing and looking down at the glimmering swish of the water dancing with the sunlight, curling out beneath the boat. It’s a few minutes before she speaks.

“Do you have any regrets?” She picks and pokes at the skin around her fingernails, still not looking at him. “Like, do you ever think about what you’re doing with your life or what kind of person you are?”

“Wow. Getting a little reflective in your old age there, Annie,” he says, nudging her arm playfully with his elbow.

“Being here is making me all wistful for something. I don’t even know. I feel…” She sighs, and it's heavier than he's ever heard it. “I feel really small and insignificant. I can't explain it. It’s like, have you ever looked in the mirror for so long that you don’t know who you are anymore? It feels like that. It’s weird.”

“Huh. When I look in the mirror, I only become more handsome. Maybe your mirror is broken.”

“Jeff! I’m being serious.”

“I know,” he chuckles and slouches down to her level, resting his forearms against the railing. “Look, travel does that sometimes. You’re away from home and out of your comfort zone and I don't know. I guess you get a little perspective on life, like the things you left behind and stuff you could have done differently, or maybe where you see yourself in the future. It happens.”

“You sound like you have some experience.”

He shrugs, pressing his lips together in a downward sort of smile. “I have regrets, Annie. Doesn’t mean I’d do anything different. Do I wish I’d never got caught by the Bar? It'd sure make life easier sometimes. I miss the money the most. And the power. I used to feel so powerful. But then I look at the bigger picture and I realize that, you know, I wouldn’t have met you guys. I’d never try to find my Dad. I wouldn’t be here.”

 _With you_.

He doesn’t say it but it lingers unsaid between them like so many other things, and the way her neck undulates as she swallows, and the weight of her gaze so alert against his, Jeff knows she feels it too, knows he didn't _have_ to say it.

Annie licks her lips, cautious when she asks, “And those are all positive things?”

"I think so. Not sure about the Dad thing though. Jury’s still out on that one.”

“Finding your Dad is the right thing to do. And I’m not saying this will happen but even if you don’t find him, at least you can say you’ve tried. But I hope you do. I really want that for you.” She pauses, expression sheepish for a second. “Is it wrong that I’d like you to punch him in the face when you do meet him?”

“If it is then I’ve been dreaming wrong for twenty years.”

Annie smiles sadly as she straightens to press her cheek against Jeff’s upper arm, nestling as close as possible in her effort to comfort him. Jeff almost drops a kiss into her hair, a little disorientated and overwhelmed by her reassurance and support, and watches people wave at them on a passing boat, smiling into her hair when Annie waves back.

“Did you mean what you said before?” he asks suddenly and she hums distractedly in response, her focus elsewhere. “About feeling insignificant?” he prompts.

Annie pulls back to look at him, brow briefly furrowed before the realization lights her face and smoothes the lines away. “Oh, not in _that_ way. I guess when I think about how big the world is and how much I haven’t seen yet, I feel small then. But…I’m not sure I know who I am or where I’m going. That much is true.”

“I think you’ve got a pretty good idea, and even if you haven’t who cares?"

"I care."

"But we can’t know everything about ourselves, Annie, and half the fun is figuring it out. Shit, I’m still figuring things out. Look at Britta. That’s what we do.” He watches her eyes glaze thoughtfully, and the fact that she's even considering his advice has him holding out both arms before he even realizes. “Come here.”

Her smile plays coy as she folds herself against him, hands resting on the small of his back as his arms tighten around her. He’s pretty sure she can feel the racing thud of his heart against her ear, even more when he pushes her wind-swept hair out of his face, smoothing across the arch of her neck where it disappears into her hairline, and the skin seems so delicate there that it makes the touch almost too intimate.

Annie laughs and sighs all at once, the noise dulled slightly by his chest, and pulls away, clearing her throat a little awkwardly. “Okay, enough of this weird melancholy philosophical thing we’ve got going on.”

Jeff has to quell the rising urge to tug her back, fisting both hands by his sides, and wonders where the impulse has come from because he's managed fine so far. It's like her constant presence is frying all his wires and blurring all his lines.

“Hey, you started it.”

“So now I’m finishing it.” She gives a quick resolute nod and starts digging around in her purse, handing Jeff an umbrella, map, wallet and compact mirror to hold before she pulls out her camera and puts the rest back and doesn't even give him any time to complain about being used as some sort of table.

“Picture time! Come on, get your phone out.”

“No. You take the pictures. I don’t even know what I’m looking at anyway.”

“Well, you would if you stopped giving me the face every time I try to impart my historical wisdom.”

“What face?” He scrunches his face to wrinkle his nose. “And _historical wisdom_?”

“ _That_ face.” She points wildly. “Right there.”

He chuckles. “Whatever. I’m happy to just stand here and get my tan on.”

“Okay Snooki.”

“Ugh. Snooki, really?” He shakes his head derisively. “Couldn’t I have been, I don’t know, Ronnie? And wait, you watch _The Jersey Shore_? I expected more of you.”

“Hey!” Annie gasps. “It’s car crash TV. You catch one episode and you just can’t look away.”

“You catch something alright.”

“Ew!” Her face crumples in disgust. “And if you know their names, you must watch it too, Jeff. So, you know.” Her hand flaps in a distracted sort of flutter. “Shut up!”

“Ha ha. Busted.”

“And now you sound like Leonard.”

Jeff smile fades instantly. “I don’t think we can be friends anymore, Annie. Seriously.”

The sound of her giggle is glorious.

 

 

~x~

 

 

In the stone courtyard of the Royal Observatory in Greenwich, Annie stares at the screen on Jeff’s phone, watching as he folds his arms across his chest, head tilted to one side.

“Would it kill you to smile, Jeff?” His lips have barely parted to respond when she snaps, “That was rhetorical. The sooner you smile, the sooner we can go to the pub.”

Jeff quickly plasters on a smile, dropping it as soon as the flash goes off. He scrunches his eyes closed for a moment, rubs them with the heel of his hand and blinks rapidly a few times. “If this is taking it easy on me, you lied.”

“Not listening,” she sing-songs pointedly.

“I still don’t know why you made me hike up that hill just to take a picture of me standing on some stupid metal line.” He waves his hand carelessly in the direction of the metal line running straight across the stone courtyard currently packed with tourists.

“It was hardly a hike, Jeff, and it’s the Prime Meridian of the world.”

“And?"

“ _And_ by standing with one leg either side of that ‘stupid metal line’ - yes, I just finger quoted you, deal with it – you are currently in both the Eastern and Western hemispheres of the world.” She smiles smugly. “You really can be in two places at once.”

His head shakes as he smirks. “Skim read my ass.”

“Also," Annie grins, ignoring him. "This is the centre of world time. I thought you could tweet that picture to Abed and freak him out. You know how he feels about daylight savings and time zones.”

Jeff’s eyes widen. “ _Annie_. That’s so mean.” He pauses, the naughtiness creeping slowly into his smile. “I _love_ it.”

She meets his smile with a proud and jaunty, “Thanks,” and hands back his phone.

“Though being mean to Abed is not really your style. What gives?”

Annie pauses to consider. She is still a little annoyed at Abed and everything he said before she left, though only when she really thinks about it and that hasn't been much at all. Especially since she ran into Jeff, but the less she thinks about _that_ , the better.

“I just think he deserves a little payback,” she says.

“For what? This isn’t another Batman DVD situation but with one of your gross Mark Ruffulo ones instead is it?”

“Um, excuse me but Mark Ruffulo isn’t gross. Why do you guys always associate him with romantic comedies? He was in that thriller movie _Zodiac_. Geez.”

“Easy there, tiger.” His eyes dance with amusement as he thrusts his palms up in a gesture of defense. “I never said anything about romantic comedies.”

“You didn’t have to. I know what you were thinking.”

“Oh, so I can add mind reading to your long list of talents. Good to know.” Jeff chuckles as he flips and twirls his phone in hand. “But we’re kind of getting off point here. Abed. Payback. Go.”

“Well…” Annie sighs heavily, as if she's just let go of all the air in her lungs. “He kind of ruined my list. I mean, does he not know how long those things take to compile? You don't just write anything. You have to do your research and that takes time. Hours and hours of precious valuable time.”

“Your list? Wait. Let me guess. You wrote a list of everything you wanted to do on vacation.”

Her lips pucker to pout. “Am I really that predictable?”

“Well, with lists and planning, yes. I mean, you’ve had our days planned out with routes and…” He frowns at the way her expression falls, and gently lifts her chin with one finger so that she looks at him. “Hey, it’s not a bad thing.”

“I know, it’s just…”

“Just…?”

“Ugh.” Her hands fall back to her thighs with a slap. “I’m trying to be less controlling and more spontaneous.”

Jeff chuckles into a closed fist and Annie glares at him until his smile fades and his fist drops. “Oh, you’re serious.”

“Why is that so hard to believe?" she asks indignantly. "My spontaneity worked. I’m here aren’t I? Come on, poke me.”

“I’m not going to poke you, Annie. We’re not on Facebook.”

She huffs a resigned, “Fine,” snapping her arms underneath her bust in a gesture _thisclose_ to childish.

“I’m sorry, it’s just spontaneous is not really a word I’d associate with you. I mean, you schedule dental appointments a year in advance.”

“Oral hygiene is important, Jeff.” She watches the smirk graze his lips but ignores it with another sigh, wiggling her fingers in a little flippant wave. “But you’re right anyway. I totally Britta’d my plan to be spontaneous by writing a list.”

“Plus you _planned_ to be spontaneous. Kind of negates the whole purpose.”

Annie’s mouth parts in realization. “I’m ridiculous,” she says, shoulders slumping.

Jeff smiles softly and runs his palm down the back of her arm. “No, you’re not. You proved that plans work too because look.” He gestures to the city skyline beyond the black iron railings that frame the courtyard. “You’re here. In London. Or should I say you’re currently in both the Eastern and Western hemispheres.” His smile edges into teasing again as he points at their feet still hovering over the metal line.

She flushes, chin dropping to her chest as she smiles demurely and wraps her arms around him in a sudden burst of affection and impulsiveness, mumbling into his chest, “Sometimes you say all the right things.”

Jeff tightens his arms around her. “Duh.” 

“Except that.”

He chuckles and pulls back, hands resting warm on her shoulders, thumbs brushing the skin there. “I just. I like you as you are, Annie. Day-planner and all. And you shouldn’t feel like you have to change, unless you really want to.”

“I know.” Annie swallows thickly, aware of her heart doing somersaults at how genuine and serious he sounds, and pulls away suddenly, handing Jeff her camera and moving to straddle one foot either side of the metal line. “Okay. Now do me.”

His eyebrows rise. “Gladly.”

“I meant take my picture.”

“I know what you meant." He grins. "What did you think _I_ meant?”

“Nothing!”

He laughs, grin mischievous and wicked - the kind that must have given his mom hell when he was a kid - and Annie tries to ignore the sudden flutter of her pulse and the lurch of her stomach and the fact that now all she can think about is Jeff _doing_ her and _oh god yes please_. Her cheeks flood with color and heat as she tries to focus on her pose and not on the image of Jeff's mouth trailing down her naked body laid out beneath him. It's not a new fantasy by any means but it somehow feels sharper now, more focused and full of color and detail the more he touches her, the closer he moves. She coughs at the thought and smiles, wide and false at first before she bites down and concentrates, waiting and willing for the camera flash.

By the time they’ve taken a few more pictures of the Observatory and the view over the surrounding green hills of Greenwich Park, the sun is somewhere beyond the huge yellow spikes of the Millennium Dome in the distance, and Jeff tugs Annie towards the steep hill leading back to the town.

“Come on. We’ve got plenty of time before the last boat back. I’ll buy you a drink in the last pub in the western hemisphere and you can tell me all about your list and what else we’ve got to do to complete it.”

The huff of her laugh is more than a little awkward because, well, the first item on her list is definitely of the R rated variety and that is not something Annie feels like sharing. “Is it the last pub in the west or is it the first?”

Jeff frowns and Annie wonders if he knows she’s deliberately changing the subject.

“Does it matter?”

“Of course it does. These are all very important questions to consider, Jeff.”

“Ugh. If you’re about to get philosophical on me again, Miss Edison, I’m going home.”

“Don’t lie, Jeff. We both know you’re going nowhere.”

“True.” He looks down at her softly, too softly, and Annie’s heart flutters madly now. “But I’m not drunk enough for this type of conversation.”

“Good job we’re going to the pub then.” She grins at him, eyes widening playfully as she gets an idea. “I’ll race you.”

Jeff’s brow crinkles but he smiles, completely amused by her. “What?”

“Come on, I’ll race you down the hill to the pub. Loser buys the first round.”

“Annie, you don’t have to prove anything to me. I’m not -”

“Too late!”

Annie snatches herself out of his grasp, her hand tingling as she sets off down the steep path. The gradient jars her knees and her purse bounces against her hip, but her speed and the downward momentum has the breeze weaving through her hair and cooling her skin heated by a day in the sun. For the briefest of moments her mind is completely free of everything and the feeling is invigorating, sending a energizing zip throughout her body. Her knees are grateful when the incline lessens and she’s about to celebrate her victory when Jeff rushes past, turning to grin triumphantly, eyes wild as he fists the air.

“Ha! I win. YES!”

Annie’s mouth drops open and she can’t stop herself from careening into his chest, hands latching onto his biceps to steady herself. “No fair!” she gasps out between stilted breaths.

Jeff palms her hips firmly to help settle her and they stand there for a few minutes catching their breath.

“That’ll teach you for challenging me. I’ll have a scotch please.”

Her lips pucker momentarily but then she can’t stop smiling, feeling breathless and more than a little exhilarated. “You cheat.”

“How? You had a head-start which means _you_ cheat.”

His fingers tickle the small strip of skin above her shorts and Annie wriggles in his grasp at the sensation, trying desperately to ignore how good it feels.

“But your legs are longer than mine.”

“Don’t worry.” He smiles naughtily again, hasn't stopped. “Yours may be small but they’re perfectly formed.”

She's wants to tease him for his cheesy line but then his eyes flick downwards and all amusement built between them falls away as Annie watches him trail the length of her legs, slowly, and he licks his lips and _god_ , she feels burned, branded suddenly. Somewhere, her little Britta voice screeches that this shouldn’t feel good – _that she’s not a piece of meat goddammit, her eyes are up here_ – but it does. It feels so good. That impulse that she’s sewn away inside, the desire to kiss him, to feel his mouth on hers, has been unravelling all day and now it’s thrumming through her fingertips as they tighten against his biceps, pinching the solid muscle and soft skin there. Jeff’s gaze jumps from the swell of her breasts, clashing with hers heatedly, and she knows then.

She just knows.

Whether it’s that she’s always surprised when a man wants to kiss her, or because she grabbed life with both hands for the first time in forever and now she’s here in London, or that she’s just run down a hill with Jeff Winger, of all people, giggling and shrieking like five year olds, Annie doesn’t know. But she feels emboldened, as if she can do anything.

And goddammit she can. She can be spontaneous. She can kiss Jeff Winger if she damn well wants. And she wants…she wants…

She presses herself closer, watching Jeff’s eyes widen in surprise but then his gaze darkens and she knows she’s just started a game that maybe she’s not ready to play.

Or maybe she’s _beyond_ ready.

“So…” Biting her lower lip, Annie fingers the edge of his sleeve, pinching and tugging the material where it rests against his bicep. “Do you -”

The words are stolen as Jeff growls, the noise bursting out between the clench of his teeth as he tugs her against him. His lips smash against hers, surprise liquefying into a heady sort of pleasure as his mouth demands and coaxes little moans from the back of her throat, and as their tongues meet all she can think about is the scratch of his stubble, the feel of him pressed against her so hot and hard and masculine, his fingertips frantic against her flesh. His heart races beneath her palm as she slides it up his chest and into his hair, giving her a thrill that he’s affected just as much.

In the distance, somewhere beyond the realm of everything else, someone shouts “Oi, oi!” and wolf-whistles loudly, and it feels like forever and no time at all when Jeff pulls away, lips wet and swollen, breathless. Annie’s hair is a little mussed and she can feel everywhere his hands have been. Their eyes lock heatedly and they both lean back in, lips millimetres apart, the tip of his nose barely brushing hers when the wolf-whistle sounds again, louder and longer now, and they startle backwards, eyes darting around the park and settling on a group of shirtless men playing football on the grass. They all stop playing to give double thumbs up and one rude hand gesture and then two of them get on the grass to perform some sort of mime and…oh. _Oh_.

Annie thrusts her flushing face into Jeff’s chest, trying to cover her cheeks with her hair and his shirt and getting nowhere. “Oh god, oh god.”

“Uh. Yeah.”

Somehow she manages to meet Jeff’s gaze and there’s a moment of unblinking silence as they each replay what just happened. It's verging into awkward territory because what do you say when you've basically just eaten your friend's face and enjoyed it, but then a football suddenly sails past, narrowly missing Jeff's head and jolting them back into their surroundings, the outside noise coming at them in a rush. It releases the tension in a snap and they both laugh at the awkwardness of it all but when their smiles slowly fade and their eyes meet again, there’s something new there, something that’s been unleashed that can’t ever be put back, and Annie isn’t sure she wants it to.

“So,” she breathes, and tugs at a loose thread at the bottom of her denim shorts, using the distraction to regain her composure. “Was that a Scotch you wanted?”

Jeff’s brow crinkles momentarily and he nods, more than a little dazed as they start to amble in the direction of the pub. “You better make it a double.”

 

 

~x~

 

 

Later that night, Jeff straightens the length of his skinny black tie and checks his breath discreetly into his palm as he waits for Annie by the Shakespeare fountain in Leicester Square. He taps a distracted beat with his foot as he searches the crowds lingering outside the surrounding restaurants and movie theatres beneath an ink blue sky.

He’s nervous which is ridiculous because Jeff Winger doesn’t get nervous but if there’s anyone who can make him feel new things, it’s Annie Edison and _Jesus Christ_ he is feeling all the things. All of them.

He can still feel the shape of her ass in his palms when they made out in the park and he was seconds away from public indecency and losing his goddamn mind. And there was that moment in the pub when they were laughing at the old men around them and how they pronounced words like ‘bottle’ and ‘arse’, and somehow his hand landed hot on her bare thigh – for just a moment, a heartbeat. His lips are still tingling from when Annie’s mouth crashed against his in a rush and they spent the afternoon stealing lazy kisses in a booth in a dark corner surrounded by the smell of beer, not quite sure what they were doing but not wanting to question it, and definitely not wanting to stop.

And when they were on the boat back to Westminster Pier, when she snuggled close for warmth and her eyelashes fluttered up at him, tempting him with glossy bitten lips that tasted of scotch, and her hand slid down to lightly graze his ass. Well. He just couldn’t help himself.

Now, as he waits to take Annie to dinner, his limbs fidget with the annoying kind of impatience he rarely feels, and he's feeling pretty overwhelmed with the need to see her again – stupid because they’ve only been apart for two hours so they could shower and change and stop touching faces.

It’s just…he wants her. Now. This is beyond the frustration he felt when he didn’t get screwed in the Biology room that one time. This is a compulsive unrelenting need to take her back to his bed, study her body like a fucking map and blow her damn mind. It's reached the point where he doesn't quite know how he's survived this long without touching her because everything that came before, that led to this point, seems so disjointed and faraway and it's only here and now that matters. It's all he knows right now.

He looks up from scuffing his shoes against the path and swallows hard, his mouth dry suddenly. Annie’s wearing a short cobalt-blue cocktail dress that makes her eyes even more striking, if that were possible, and a pair of strappy heels he's never seen. Her cheeks are a little flush with a day's worth of sun and Jeff is rooted to the spot as she walks towards him, weaving through the crowds with a gracefulness that’s more than a little disarming.

She's within breathing distance now, the scent of her perfume as soft as her skin, and he just cannot move.

“Hi!” Her voice is a pitch too high like maybe she's nervous too, and her smile slips as her eyes flit across his features. “What’s wrong? Do I have lipstick on my teeth?”

Jeff shakes his head dazedly, slowly, curling his fingers around Annie’s wrist to tug her hand away from covering her perfect glossy red mouth.

“No. It’s just. You look...” He allows himself another appreciative look of her body and by the fluster of her pulse beneath his fingertips, Annie notices. “Beautiful.”

“Thanks.” Her free hand smoothes against the skirt of her dress but even her fussing can’t hide the red flush to her cheeks or the rapid rise and fall of her chest.

He drops her wrist a little awkwardly and stuffs his hands into his pockets, almost afraid of what they’re capable of when she’s around. A few people walk around them standing there in the middle of the pathway, a shiver of noise and laughter and voices that drift away as quickly as they approached, leaving them in a silence that neither knows how to break right now.

“So…”

Annie nods, slowly, and doesn't stop. “So…”

“We kissed.” Jeff winces and closes his eyes for a moment because he didn't mean to say that, he wanted to play it cool goddammit, but when he opens them Annie's smile is twitching, threatening to blossom. _  
_

“Yep. Three times.”

“Well, it was probably more than that.”

“How so?”

“In the pub? We made out a lot. So technically, it’s more. I don’t even know. I lost count.”

Her eyebrows lift in surprise. “You were counting?”

“ _Psssh_. No.”

“You were counting.” Her smile is a little smug as she presses closer and his muscles tighten at the feel of her body heat and what she could possibly do next, and Jeff doesn't know whether to be nervous or excited that he has no idea.

“You were too so you can stop looking at me like that.”

Annie toys with a smile that seems more devious around red glossed lips. “Do I make you nervous, Jeff?”

His gaze darts between her eyes and lips and back again. “Oh, you have no idea, baby.”

Her gasp is barely audible but it fires him like nothing else, energizes him in a way he hasn't felt in a real long time. Annie licks and rolls her bottom lip between her teeth, her hand suddenly running smooth down his forearm, and Jeff watches, enthralled slightly and pulse quick, as her fingertips disappear into his pocket searching for his hand and he yanks it out quickly to give her what she wants – what they both want.

They stand there for a moment staring at their loosely joined hands, so new and strange and yet familiar all at once, and when Jeff makes a decision to weave his fingers through hers tightly, Annie beams, her eyes sparkling in the low light. They fall in step just as the streetlamps in the square flicker to life, showering them in a soft amber glow, and _Jesus Christ_ anyone would think it was romantic or something.

Annie clears her throat and Jeff is all kinds of grateful because he just doesn't know what to say right now. He feels a little knocked off his own feet, unbalanced in a way he's never been before.

“So, dinner?" she asks. "I don’t know about you but drinking scotch and beer for lunch probably wasn’t the best idea we had. I’m starving.”

“I disagree. I think it was the best fucking idea we’ve ever had.”

“You just liked the kissing.”

“It's true. I am all about the kissing, especially when you taste like scotch. I like that.”

“Huh.” She taps her lip with her fingertip. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

He halts, the excitement building and burning in his chest suddenly. “Why, Miss Edison, are you planning on kissing me again?”

As Annie spins to walk away, the evening breeze swirls with her dress and Jeff has to swallow down a growl at the glimpse of smooth pale thighs as she glances back over her shoulder with a flirty little smile and an outstretched hand, waiting only for him.

“Oh, you can count on it.”


	4. Chapter 4

Three days later Jeff stands in the middle of Piccadilly Circus, sipping on the last dregs of his coffee. The air is unbearably close, thick with heat and pollution that clings to the sweat on the back of his neck, and the noise of traffic and people pouring out of the tube station, hurrying from all directions, is a little overwhelming so early in the morning.

He’d rather be in bed right now - maybe order in some room service and catch up on his tweets and emails and a few of the games on his phone he hasn't had the time or inclination to play the last couple of days. If he had a choice Annie would be there too, preferably naked or at least wrapped up in his sheets, but he's really not sure what Annie wants and it's the uncertainty that makes him reluctant to find out, for now.

There was a moment last night after dinner in Soho, when their hands swung back and forth between them, brushing every now and then as they moved through the crowds in a silence filled with bitten lips and searching eyes, and his racing pulse thought she was going to ask to come back to his hotel.

She didn’t.

When they eventually parted he watched her wander off into the night with a frustration he hasn’t felt in a long time, rooted in the pit of his chest and buried there ever since. He doesn’t blame her hesitance because this is Annie and it’s only been four days of whatever it is they’re doing - he's not even going to begin to label it - but spending every minute of the day in her company is heightening everything he feels to a level he's increasingly unable to suppress.

He watches her standing by the fountain trying to photograph the detail on one of the streetlamps – ‘Victorian’ according to Annie’s endless supply of useless facts. She looks so tempting in another skimpy sundress that clings to her in the best way when the wind catches - the color light enough that he can see the soft outline of her body through the material when the sun lights her from behind - but it’s her enthusiasm for everything that has the smile inching across his cheeks. And when she turns to catch his eye, she wiggles her fingers at him in a flirtatious little wave and his heart swoops low.

It really needs to stop doing that.

To distract himself he shakes his recyclable coffee cup to check that it's empty and throws it into a nearby trash can. At that moment a red double-decker bus pulls up along the sidewalk and Annie runs over, clapping excitedly.

“It’s here!” she sing-songs happily. Stretching on tiptoe she presses a quick, almost distracted kiss to his lips – somehow so habitual now – and tugs him to join the line forming alongside it and -

“ _Jesus Christ,_ Annie, there’s a tour guide. You never said anything about a tour guide.”

“Oh. Didn’t I?”

He smirks at the faux innocence twitching her lips, knows she's trying not to smile - the same way she does when Troy and Abed do something childish that she can't help but find entertaining sometimes, even though she thinks she shouldn't.

“You so owe me for this.”

"Hmm. We'll see." She strokes the length of his forearm with her fingertips, her nails scratching him slightly. “But out of interest, how would you like to be repaid?"

"I get a choice?"

"Sure. There's kisses or scotch or…?”

He's liking the sound of that missing option - seriously, consider him sold whatever it is - but Annie is distracted with the task of handing over their tickets and dragging him to the small steep stairwell that winds up to the top deck where they grab a couple of seats near the front for 'optimal photography' - Annie's words, not his.

As they wait for the rest of the bus to fill, she busies herself taking photos of the illuminated advertisements of McDonald's and Diet Coke lining the curve of one building while Jeff thinks about his repayment and everything it could involve. Annie naked. He shifts a little. Him naked. Even better. Annie and him naked. _Together._ His foot taps a frustrated beat and he checks his watch, although it's more for distraction than a need to know the time.

“How long is this bus tour?” he asks.

“About two hours. I thought we’d get off at Marble Arch and walk down Oxford Street. I also looked up all the best menswear stores. I know how much you want to go shopping.”

Jeff grins. “You think of everything don’t you?”

She throws a flirty little smile over her shoulder, camera still poised in the air. “I thought we established I’m the day planner, Jeff.”

“So we did,” he smirks, stretching an arm across the back of her seat, the ends of her hair tickling his skin as she moves.

"Besides, I've always wanted to see you in your natural habitat. Watch you work your magic. All these years we've been friends and we've never once been to the mall together."

"Oh, well, you're in for it now."

They share another smile that makes more than his cheeks hurt and it must show on his face because Annie flushes and dips her head before turning back to her camera. While Annie's busy taking more pictures, Jeff figures now is a good time to ignore that weird feeling in his chest and check his phone for messages. He grins as his Twitter feed from last night pops up across the screen.

Thanks for tweeting **@AbedsTweets** that picture of the weird time zone thing **@JeffWingerAtLaw**. Real cool. Now we can’t get him to stop screaming.

And from Britta a minute later:

 **@JeffWingerAtLaw @AnnieEdisonGCC** douchebag.

Jeff chuckles loud enough that Annie turns to look at him finally, face lit inquisitively, and he thrusts the phone into her hands. “Look.”

Shielding the screen from the sunlight she squints as she reads and gasps, “Why am I a douchebag?”

“Uh, because I told them it was your idea?” His head shakes amusedly. “I can just picture Troy and Britta flapping around your apartment trying to calm Abed down. You’re an evil genius when you want to be, Edison.” He turns to her, frowning immediately at her look of surprise. “What, you don’t agree?”

“You told them we met up?”

He blinks in surprise at her question. “Yeaaahhh. Didn’t you?”

“No. I haven’t been in touch with the guys at all because I promised Abed I wouldn’t call from the future, you know, because we’re seven hours ahead?” She dismisses his blank look with a careless flap of her hand. “Anyway, to be honest I thought you’d prefer to keep it a secret, even more since we’ve been, you know…”

Jeff shifts awkwardly in the seat clearly not made for someone over 6ft tall, trying to dislodge the discomfiture rising in his gut, that same sensation of dread he feels whenever he might have to talk about feelings and, well, having them.

“No, Annie, I don’t know, and why would I keep it a secret?”

Her eyebrows rise pointedly. “Oh, so you’d have no problem telling Shirley and Britta that we’ve been making out all over London the last four days? Or that you got a little hands-y on more than one occasion?”

“I wouldn’t say _all_ over London and please, as if you didn’t want me to touch your ass wearing shorts like that.”

“Jeff! Ew. I can't believe you said that.”

“Okay, okay. Sorry.” He takes a deep leisurely breath and smoothes his palms against his thighs a couple of times. “Look, I think the fact that I like you is probably the worst kept secret at Greendale. I’m pretty sure even Leonard knows.”

Annie smiles almost bashfully, pinching the fabric of his jeans where it's gathered and creased at the bend of his knee. “You like me, huh?”

“Annie.” His head rolls languidly to one side. “Take a minute to process where we’re sitting right now.”

She frowns, taking a measured look around them. “Piccadilly Circus?”

“Yes, but I’m talking more about the bus. The open-top double-decker bus.”

“O-kay…”

“Do I look like an open-top double-decker bus kind of guy? Does this look like the face of a man who enjoys listening to some British guy with the worst shirt and tie combo I’ve ever seen, drone on and on _and on_ about buildings I don’t care about? I mean, London Bridge? It’s just a bridge, Annie. It opens and closes for tall boats. Amazing. Never seen one of those before.”

“Jeff.”

“And how many sarcastic comments did I make when you bought those ridiculous giant Union Jack hats yesterday?”

“Two, and you know they were for Troy and Abed.”

“It doesn’t matter who’s going to wear them, Annie. The point is you bought them. You tried one on before you bought them and I stood there and only made two sarcastic comments. The restraint employed was god-like.”

She grins. “Okay.”

“And I’ve spent three days walking around museums and art galleries looking at stuff that isn’t even art. I mean, anyone can cut out colored pieces of paper and stick them on a canvas and call it a snail.”

“You’ve lost me.”

“Plus, I have journal now, Annie.” He widens his eyes meaningfully _._ “A journal. Admittedly, there’s only one entry that, well, was kind of ripped out but still. The thought counts, right?”

“You…” Her mouth parts into a little ‘o’ shape. “You started a journal?”

His mouth opens soundlessly for a second before he clears this throat and settles into a half-hearted sort of laugh that sounds a little uncomfortable if he thinks too much about it.“I drew the line at Hello Kitty.”

“That's. Um... So what are you saying?”

“I’m saying you should read between the lines.”

“I think we both know ‘reading between the lines’ doesn’t work for us, Jeff.”

There’s a slight harshness to her tone that he doesn't like, and he stares at her unblinkingly for a few moments, noting the way she's watching the agitated twist of the camera strap in her fingers and not him, and he really needs her to look at him right now.

The bus engine guns hard, sending out a buzz and hum vibration beneath their feet.

“Okay. I’m saying…” He holds her chin in a pinch and swallows hard against what he's about to say, breathing out the words in a rush. “Yes. I like you. I wouldn’t have done all that stuff if I didn’t.”

Her gaze darts coyly to the floor and back again before she smiles and fists his t-shirt in one hand, pulling him in for a kiss. It’s gentle and innocent and nothing like the kisses they’ve shared the last four days but maybe that's the point.

Annie pulls away, resting her chin on his shoulder and for a moment they both just breathe together quietly. “How terrified are you right now?” she asks eventually.

“On a scale of 1 to 100?” His head tilts to consider. “About a 95.”

“Do you…Do you want to hold my hand?” She bites her lower lip and draws her fingertips in a gentle brush across the back of his hand that actually makes him shiver slightly. “It might help.”

He shrugs one shoulder, trying to be cool about it, but his lips curl upwards. “Can’t hurt to try.”

She smiles, threading her fingers through his, slightly hesitant at first, before resting their joined hands on his thigh. The bus finally pulls away from the sidewalk and the speakers thump with intermittent white noise as the tour guide fiddles with the microphone settings. As the breeze picks up around them, Annie snuggles closer and Jeff feels a warm sensation in his chest.

“Jeff?” He hums in response as their eyes meet, soft and smiling. “I like you too.”

 

 

~x~

 

 

There’s a low rumble of thunder in the distance by the time they climb off the bus two hours later. The air has cooled slightly and the sky has darkened to a menacing gray and Annie knows from her research that their luck with the weather is about to run out. As she quickly checks her map for directions, Jeff busies himself frowning at the sky and then at the ground steadily darkening with giant spots of rain.

It's catching on her skin now, and a drop hits her right in the eye, so Annie thrusts her map back into her purse and pulls out her umbrella, blinking against the raindrops and grinning at the sight of Jeff holding both palms flat above his head in an attempt at shelter. Shaking her head in amusement, she swiftly unfolds the umbrella with a click and hands it to him. His nose wrinkles a little. 

“Uh. No. I don’t do umbrellas.”

“Fine. You can get wet then.”

His lips pinch in deliberation as he looks at the sky again, and seconds later he sighs like it's a huge inconvenience and, with a muttered curse under his breath, snatches the umbrella out of Annie’s grasp, curling his arm around her so she’s pressed against his chest, sheltering them both as the rain grows loud and heavy around them.

“Clearly we got off that stupid bus just in time.”

“Oh please, it wasn’t that bad.”

“Seriously, Annie, if I had to listen to that guy mention the ‘wonderfully rich architecture’ one more time, I was about to commit a felony.”

“Don’t be so dramatic. Anyway, it’s over now and you can spend the next few hours doing your favorite thing, you know, looking at your own reflection in all the changing room mirrors. Oxford Street is just, well, there.” She points at the busy road running alongside them.

“You needed a map for that?” he smirks.

“Shut up.” 

They huddle close, unmoving, listening to the rhythmic pitter-patter against the purple polka-dotted material stretched taut above them. As neither of them seems to want to move, Annie presses her cheek to his chest and tightens her grip around his waist, trying not to think about how close they are, how manly he smells, how solid he feels beneath her fingertips.

She wants him.

It’s not a new feeling but it bubbles up inside her almost desperately, unexpectedly at times, and the kissing and touching, laughing and chatting for four days straight has just amplified everything and now…now her hands itch to run through his hair and grab him – really pull him flush against her so she can feel the hard planes of his chest and his heartbeat – to feel him inside her. She wants him to take off her clothes and do things to her she rarely lets herself think about, things that still make her flush when she does.

She knows it’s going to happen and the sureness of it is more than surprising after all this time, especially where Jeff Winger is concerned. But she just doesn’t know how - or when. She was kind of hoping he’d take the lead but he hasn’t and goddammit, why?

There had been a moment last night when Jeff slipped his hand into hers, as if it was natural, instinctual, and the certainty of his desire, the soft affection dancing in his eyes and tilting his lips to one side, sent an empowering zip all the way to her toes. She thought for sure that he was going to invite her back to his hotel but he didn’t and she had to resist stomping her feet all the way home.

She sighs at the thought - at the frustration she felt back in her cramped hostel bunkbed, that had her flushing and wriggling and thrusting a cold pillow into her face - and pulls back slightly, tilting her head to study him. He’s already gazing at her with that look again – the one she knows so well, the one she’s dreamed of and agonized over at times, so soft and full of something…

Jeff presses a kiss to her forehead, eyes roaming her face as though he’s memorizing every feature, and sometimes his affection just doesn't seem possible.

“What are you thinking about?” he asks.

“Oh, just the weather. We’re in London experiencing a classic English summer rain. Isn’t it amazing?”

“Rain is rain, Annie. That watery substance that falls from the sky back in Colorado? Same thing.”

“But it’s different. It smells really cool and fresh here.” She sniffs the air pointedly, feeling the crispness hit her lungs, invigorating after the morning's strangling humidity. “Can you smell that?”

“I can’t smell anything but your hair." His eyes widen a little, as if he didn't mean to say that. "It's...nice, good even. Vanilla?”

She nods, the play of her mouth all softly demure as she fingers the hem of his t-shirt where it sits low against his jeans. “You know, there’s something sexy about kissing in the rain if…" She peeks at him through her eyelashes. "If we got rid of this umbrella.”

His eyebrows rise in amusement. “Annie, I’m not making out with you in the pouring rain just because you think it’s romantic.”

She pouts. “You’re no fun.”

“Let’s think about this for a second. Those romantic comedies you watch where the guy runs in the rain to the woman and professes his love? Never. Happens. And don’t you think it’s convenient how they never show what happens afterwards, with the guy in hospital dying from pneumonia or some other rain related disease?”

Annie blinks up at him. “Are you finished?”

“Plus this shirt was expensive.” He meets her slow smile with one of his own. “Now I’m finished.”

“You know there’s a flaw in your logic, right?”

“Impossible.”

“Oh, so you don’t see the merit of getting soaking wet while you make out?”

“No. Sounds pretty uncomfortable if you ask me.”

“Huh.” She taps her chin slowly, deliberately. “You don’t think the rain would turn this dress see-through?”

His gaze darts down to her soft pink sundress, a little startled. “I…no?”

“And you also don’t think that people have to get out of their wet clothes quickly? And possibly what they do once they’ve removed their clothes is enough to warm up and stave off any illness?” She watches his mouth part soundlessly. “Wow. And I assumed Jeff Winger thought of everything.”

“Hey." His voice cracks around a swallow. "I’m allowed my off days.”

“Let’s not pretend, Jeff. You just don’t want to get your hair wet.”

Jeff sighs. “Flat hair is not a good look on me, Annie, and that’s saying a lot because everything looks good on me. C'mon.”

“I was right before. You really are ridiculous.”

“Forgive me for not wanting to walk around London soaking wet.”

“Well, I didn’t think we would.” Her pulse races as she runs through what she’s about to say and she has to stop herself from bouncing in a rush of nervous energy and adrenaline. “We’d have to go back to your hotel to dry off because honestly, this dress would be completely see-through.”

Jeff’s eyes bug wide and Annie has to smother a triumphant smile. “Completely?”

“You’d probably see everything.”

There’s a pause as he licks his lips and fingers the strap of her sundress where it's clinging damply to her collarbone. “You know, we don’t actually have to be wet to go back to my hotel. I’m just... putting that out there.”

“But where’s the fun in that?”

“Uh, there’s lots of fun in that.” He winks at her flirtatiously, his free hand moving down to squeeze the firm curve of her hip, creeping to the swell of her ass, and she can feel the heat of his palm through the thin material of her dress. “Just say the word and I’ll show you.”

Her heart flutters fiercely but she shrugs, trying to keep as loosey-goosey as possible because she knows now, knows that Jeff was never going to take the lead on this tenuous thing between them, the move was always hers and he's just waiting for her to make it.

“Okay.”

“Okay?" His hands tighten against her, just a little. "Is that the word?”

Annie shakes her head in amusement. "Don't be silly, Jeff. When I say the word, you'll know it."

 

 

~x~

 

 

Later that night, Jeff leads Annie out of the restaurant in Covent Garden where they just ate dinner. It’s late and dark and the only lights grazing them as they walk over the uneven cobbles is the flicker of lanterns from nearby pubs and restaurant tables spilled outside into the market square. There’s a real buzz about this place – people drinking outside, street entertainers, the sound of music in the distance and the low rumble of the underground trains. Everywhere is still a little wet from the earlier rainfall, and there are puddles in patches of uneven ground; the water glinting and reflecting moonlight.

Jeff steals a glance at Annie, eyes bright in the darkness as she beams eagerly at their surroundings and tightens her cardigan against the evening chill. He’s contemplating whether to take her somewhere for drinks to warm up – maybe the bar in his hotel, or even the mini-bar in his room, possibly just throw his body on top of hers, that’ll keep her warm – when she suddenly squeals in delight and rushes over to an old red phone booth by the side of the road.

“Jeff!” She opens the door and peers inside, eating every detail. “This is so exciting! It’s just like the one in -”

“Inspector Spacetime.” Jeff grins, folding his arms across his chest. “I’ve seen like ten of these already, Annie. You didn’t notice?”

“No! And I was looking for them. I was starting to think they were some sort of British conspiracy.”

He laughs, “Yeah, well, you’ll see them everywhere now.”

“I know, right? Why _is_ that?” She bounces animatedly and rifles through her purse for her phone. “Take my picture. Troy and Abed will love it! It might make up for the time zone photo.”

“Annie. It was your evil plan to mess with Abed. Why do you feel bad? It worked. Mission accomplished.”

“I know but I feel guilty leaving Troy to deal with that. Abed’s freak outs are not pretty.”

"Says the woman who once screamed her head off because she lost a pen."

"Uh, the pen was _stolen_ from me, Jeff. There's a difference. And this is not about me. This is about Abed."

“Really,” he smirks.

Her eyes widen in horror. “You have _no_ idea. When the clocks went back, Troy and I had ringing ears from his piercing screams for two whole days. Then there was the time I rearranged their bedroom just a little, you know, to keep things organized and give them some more space, and that was... well. Don’t ever touch Abed’s things. It’s not worth it.” Her hand snaps to cover her mouth like the dawning horror of her actions has finally caught up with her. “Oh god, I _really_ need to make it up to them. Here.”

She hands Jeff her phone and stands just inside the open door of the phone booth, striking a pose with one hand on her forehead and one finger pointing across the square.

Jeff frowns. “Uh, what are you doing?”

“I’m channelling Geneva,” she says, as if it's the most obvious thing, and sighs in annoyance at his blank confusion. “Jeff. You watched all of the _Inspector Spacetime_ specials with Abed. You should know who Geneva is.”

“Yeah, I don’t really pay much attention to be honest. I just like hanging out with Abed.”

“Aww. Me too, well, when he isn’t freaking out, or moaning that I haven’t put enough butter in the buttered noodles. Or when I -”

“Okay, okay,” he laughs. “I get it. Abed can be difficult.”

“Difficult? Have you forgotten that he wanted to cut off your arm?”

Jeff huffs out a laugh. “Yeaaahhh. Let’s just pretend that never happened. These guns are too sacred.” He flexes lightly, ignoring the roll of her eyes with a smug flirty little grin. “You know I’m right.”

“I suppose so.” Her lips twist as she ushers close, reaching out to trace the muscled indent of his bicep through his shirt, and he makes a show of flexing again so that the muscle is hard beneath her hand. “Losing one of your arms would be a tragedy – purely for symmetrical means of course. Wouldn’t want you to look lopsided or anything.”

“Oh, yeah, of course,” he smirks. “It’s all about the symmetry baby.”

Annie giggles and tugs on his arm. “Come on, get in here. We need to take a picture together.”

“What? No.” He shakes his head for extra emphasis, even though he knows it’s futile at this point. Annie is nothing if not determined and he knows from three years of friendship and ridiculous adventures that he'll pretty much do anything if she asks right. He always has.

“Jeff. We’ve been here four days and haven’t taken one picture together yet. Come on," she sing-songs a little. "Troy and Abed will love it! It's the D.A.R.S.I.T!”

“It’s a phone booth, Annie.”

“Uh, I know. They call it a phone box here. But it’ll win us back some friendship points.” Her eyebrows rise expectantly, her lashes just starting to flutter. “Please?”

Jeff sighs, shaking his head at himself as he squeezes inside, shutting the door behind him, and Annie grins her success all the while. It’s a tight fit and there’s a faint stench of urine, plus the wall behind the phone is covered in business cards advertising the kind of business he’s surprised Annie hasn’t squawked at yet. But he gets to huddle close to her body and curl an arm around her, his senses filled by some floral fragrance that he smells every time she moves.

The arousal guts him, just as the camera flashes.

Annie huffs a moment later as she checks the shot. “Jeeeffff! You’re supposed to smile.”

“I wasn’t ready.” His elbow catches the edge of the phone with a thunk as he shifts to rub his eyes with the heel of his hand. “Ouch. Shit. You should really warn a guy when you’re about to blind him, Annie. _Jesus_.”

“Stop whining and smile. I’m about to blind you.” She grins and presses closer, thrusting one leg between his, her free hand low on his back, her fingers curling around his belt to anchor herself. Every muscle in him tenses at the proximity. He inhales sharply and starts a count of ten.

_One. Two. Three. Four._

Just like some fucking horny teenager with no self-control, Jeff’s gaze drops to the view of Annie’s breasts pressed against his chest and he's momentarily entranced by the lift and swell with her every breath. Her dress is low cut tonight, enough to show one small freckle dark against her pale skin, and he wants to kiss it, trace it with his finger, find out if there's more.

_Five. Six. Seven. Eight._

He’s riveted by the thump of her pulse at the base of her neck and wets his lips involuntarily, every impulse flooded by the need to lick it, just lean down and flick his tongue against -

The flash blinds him again and Annie huffs exasperatedly, whacking his chest lightly.

“Oh for goodness sake. You look like you're in pain in this one. Having your picture taken isn't that bad.”

He blinks rapidly to clear the white spots from his eyes and he's so disorientated he's not even thinking properly when he blurts, “It is with you pressed up against me like this and I can’t touch you.”

"You..." Annie starts. “You are touching me.”

His gaze bites to hers and he swallows thickly at the intensity he sees there. “Not in the way I’d like.” He pushes a few strands of hair behind her ear, and lets his fingers linger against the silk of her jawline. “Annie. You have to know that.”

Her mouth parts with a soft gasp he feels against him as she inhales, and maybe she didn't know. The air narrows in the small enclosure, the square panes of glass already clouding with their body heat combined, and they both take a heavy breath at the same time. Annie’s eyes dart across his face, searching for something or maybe everything and it feels like forever before she speaks, voice slightly breathless and full of wonder.

“Jeff.”

“Annie.”

She makes a noise so unlike Annie as she fists his shirt and their mouths meet instantly, his nose sliding over hers as they work for a better angle. His hand smoothes against her cheek, their kiss deepens frantically and Annie whimpers, stretching closer as their tongues twist and they compete in a tug and press of war with their bodies, knocking the telephone off the hook in the process.

Distantly Jeff is aware of a slightly muffled siren, faint at first yet steadily increasing in volume the longer they kiss, and his hand swings and sways for the phone dangling from its metal coil, grabbing it and slamming it back on the hook with a clink. He doesn't mean to be so heavy-handed but the abruptness of it has Annie tearing her mouth away from his, and they both gasp for much needed air against each other’s mouths.

She rests her forehead on his chest while she catches her breath and seemingly collects her thoughts, his shirt still clutched in her grip like she just doesn't want to let the moment go. Eventually she looks up at him beneath fluttering eyelashes.

“The word...I think…" She swallows and wets her lips a little. "I think I’m ready.”

Jeff frowns, still a little disorientated by the kiss and her taste and everything. “What?”

Annie fingers one of his shirt buttons, studying the pattern of her fingertip before her chin lifts, all brazen and determined. “I want you to take me to bed, Jeff. Now.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **A/N:** In case anyone is interested, when Jeff discussed visiting art galleries he was talking about 'The Snail' by Henri Matisse which is on display in the Tate Gallery in London. It really is just coloured pieces of paper arranged on a canvas in the shape of a snail. Yeah. I might have coloured that dialogue with my own POV there. Hehe. :P


	5. Chapter 5

Aware of the beads of sweat lining the creases of her palms, Annie nervously wipes them down her dress as she backs further into the room. She barely has time to notice the little hotel details she usually squeals over – the trouser-press, the coffee maker by the TV – when the door shuts with a heavy clunk that sounds so final and Jeff edges closer and the swiftness of it all happening is overwhelming. Six days ago she was hoping for a fling with a hot European and now she’s standing in Jeff Winger’s hotel room and he’s looking at her. _He’s. Looking. At. Her._ The way he eyes the length of her body from tip to toe makes her wish she was the kind of woman who ripped off her clothes and spread herself out on the bed, beckoning him close with a flirty crook of one finger...

But she’s not.

 _Not yet_.

The backs of her knees hit the bed and she bounces lightly on the mattress, shooting to her feet almost instantly. Jeff steps closer, a tiny smirk playing at his lips, and Annie suddenly doesn’t know what to do with her hands and should they be kissing now? She feels all tingly and turned around, inside out somehow. Jeff’s fingers smooth a soft caress against her cheeks hot with adrenaline, sliding through her hair to massage her scalp. She whimpers involuntarily at the barest hint of pressure at her nape, and the sound is so loud in the quiet that her gaze snaps to his in surprise, her breath catching with what she finds.

“Annie,” he sighs, the breathlessness of his voice liquifying low in her belly. “You okay?”

She nods and slides her palms up his chest, pleased to find his heart racing a matching beat to hers. "I'm sorry."

"What for?" Jeff frowns. "Do you want to stop?"

"No. No. I just. I think I’m nervous. I know when I asked you to bring me here you probably expected some femme fatale whose palms aren’t sweating and who isn’t worrying about what happens tomorrow and I’m sorry. I wish I was but I’m…I’m not that person.” She cringes at the very loud admittance of things she really should keep to herself, wishing the ground would open up and swallow her whole. "I just ruined it, didn't I?"

"No." Jeff smiles softly and her shoulders relax a little. “I guess...This is a big deal, Annie. I know that. I mean, it’s…” He brushes fingers against her temple, his eyes following its path through her hair. “You. And you're my friend. This is not. You're not.”

He catches and stumbles over his own words, and it's so unlike him that Annie feels the emotion swell and lodge in her throat because maybe he is as nervous as she is, although that doesn't seem possible. Her mouth parts but Jeff silences her with a fingertip.

She's not sure what she was going to say anyway.

"I guess what I'm trying to say is if you weren't thinking about tomorrow you wouldn't be Annie Edison and she's the only person I want with me right now."

Annie feels the smile pulling at her lips. “Can we,” she starts, and strokes the edge of his shirt between forefinger and thumb. “Can we just slow it down a little?”

Jeff kisses her then, a soft almost lazy caress of lips, pulling back before she has the chance to deepen it. “Let’s watch TV.”

“Are you sure because…” she trails off and steals a glance at his crotch, trying not to mouth the words "Oh my god" or something equally embarrassing.

“I’m sure,” he grins, but then his gaze settles on her bitten lip, and his voice cracks. “I’ll be fine.” 

Toeing off their shoes they both climb onto the bed, fluffing the pillows upright before they slouch against the headboard, trying to get comfortable. There’s a few minutes of awkward silence as Jeff discreetly places one of the decorative cushions on his lap and fiddles with the remote, flicking between channels mindlessly, and Annie preens the skirt of her dress feeling like she’s ruined everything.

“Okay," Jeff says eventually, startling her from her thoughts of doom. " _Sleepless in Seattle_ it is and before you say anything, I like Tom Hanks.”

Annie grins, the relief helping to settle the rigidness of her spine and the nervous twist of her fingers. “Yeah, yeah.”

“What? It’s true. If you don't like Tom Hanks, you're doing it wrong. Plus he was in my favorite movie as a kid, you know the one where he wishes he was a grown up?”

“Oh, you mean _Big_?” She scoots further down in the bed, punching the pillow a couple of times before settling. “I love that, especially when they play Chopsticks on the giant piano. I always wanted to do that.”

“Right?” he smiles, stretching out flat on his back. “I…” He sighs after a moment, licks his lips and starts restlessly playing with the remote again. “I went to the carnival once and wished the same thing at one of those magic wish machines.”

“Aww, Jeff.” In a burst of impulsiveness, Annie lifts his arm to snuggle under it, resting her head against his chest. He tenses for just a second before she feels him relax and she does too.

“You wished you were big?”

“Stupid, right?”

“No.” She twists her head to look at him. “Understandable.”

His eyes soften, so full of affection as he smiles. _“_ Yeah. Saying I didn’t have the best childhood is probably the understatement of the century.”

He doesn't say it for sympathy but Annie’s heart constricts in her chest all the same. It's not often that Jeff talks about his childhood but when he does, she aches with wanting to comfort him, even though she never gets the chance. Seizing his hand she prises the remote out of his grip and starts to play with his fingers, learning the ridges of his fingernails and the strength of his knuckles as the TV flickers in the background.

“I know," she says. "Me neither.”

He squeezes her tighter, closer. “I figured if you had your first stress headache when you were four, it wasn't fun.”

Her touch floats to the sensitive skin covering the pulse at his wrist and she circles the threads of blue veins there with the pad of one finger before drawing it to her mouth for a kiss, smiling against his skin as his chest starts to move faster than before.

“No.” Their eyes meet, dark and dilated, unblinking, for one heavy pause. “It wasn’t.”

Jeff clears his throat and the noise is a little ragged. “I’m doing my mom a disservice though. She tried but she had to work a lot to support us so she wasn't always around and…”

He trails off as Annie moves her slow path of fingertips across to his abdomen and his stomach muscles clench when she sneaks under the hem of his dress-shirt and finds warm bare skin.

Jeff catches Annie’s hand just as her fingers start to edge under the waistband of his pants. “Annie.” His voice is low and husky. “I thought we were slowing things down and watching TV.”

“I know how it ends, Jeff. Spoiler alert, they end up together.”

His low chuckle stops abruptly when she shifts to lean on her elbow and starts to unbutton his shirt with one hand, revealing his muscled torso inch by inch and every button.

“Plus we’re not really watching TV are we?”

Jeff swallows hard. “I don’t know. Meg Ryan is doing…something.”

Annie bites her lip, watching the slow path of her palm up the exposed column of his rising torso, smoothing under the shirt to skirt across his nipple. He lurches lightly and their gazes clash and Annie knows then. She just _knows_.

Fumbling for the remote lost among the pillows she switches off the TV, plunging the room into silence, and maneuvers until she’s sitting back on her heels. Unmoving, Jeff watches eagerly with lidded eyes, his breath on the side of heavy as she shakes her hair over her shoulders and removes her cardigan, throwing it to the side and uncaring where it lands.

She slides to stand beside the bed, reaching behind to draw down the zip of her dress, and even though her hands are a little shaky at first, Annie feels an empowering jolt and rush as Jeff licks his lips and sits upright to remove his shirt, tossing it mindlessly just as her dress pools at her feet. Kicking it away she reaches to undo her bra but Jeff scrambles off the bed, grasping her wrists tight.

“I…” His words falter as he takes in the low-cut purple bra and pink panties that don't match. “I want to do it.”

She watches him, standing shirtless and barefoot in just his pants – something so sexy about his toes sinking into the carpet – and waits, expelling a quiet breath across his chest the moment his fingers run feather-light across her shoulder blades. He sweeps down to unclasp her bra and lets it go slack, peppering a line of kisses along the curve of her shoulder as he gently slides the straps down her arms and pulls it away from her body.

“I’ve waited so long to see you like this,” Jeff says in a near whisper, almost to himself, as he runs a palm across her collarbone, hovering above her heartbeat for a few racing seconds before he cups her breast.

“Ditto.” Annie gasps at the warmth of his palm, steadying herself with a hand on his forearm as she arches instinctively into his touch.

He teases the nipple with his thumb, drawing it to one hard peak.

“ _Jesus_ , Annie.”

“Jeff,” she whispers breathlessly and he growls, lifting her abruptly and placing her on the mattress so carefully she could cry at his gentleness, and _god, it’s really happening_.

Kneeling on the bed, Jeff traces the length of her legs from ankle to knee, smoothing up to gently kneed the flesh of her thighs, watching the pale skin give and change color under his hands, and Annie’s pulse is rabid as his fingertips eventually edge underneath the elastic of her panties either side of her hips. Their gazes meet for one second as he asks a silent question and she lifts her hips in answer, biting her lower lip as he tugs her panties and draws them slowly down her legs.

Annie uses every shred of restraint not to cover herself, to lie there and watch his eyes devour the length of her naked body for the first time, his gaze jumping all over like he doesn't know where to look first. The need she sees there has her sitting up hurriedly, fumbling with his belt, the leather slapping as she slides it out through the loops with little finesse. They both laugh in the awkward scramble to get his pants off, pausing every few seconds to smile through a messy kiss, but once he’s naked, Annie pushes Jeff onto his back with insistent palms and stretches out beside him.

Jeff smoothes a hand softly over her hair and watches her greedily, like he just can't get enough.

There’s something so raw and unnerving about being exposed, so Annie busies herself – delighting in the musculature of his body up close, swooping fingertips down the indents of his abdomen the way she's always wanted; the further she treads the more his muscles clench, the faster his chest rises and falls. On impulse she dusts delicate kisses over his nipple, taking the time to trace it once with her tongue, and Jeff makes a noise between a gasp and a groan, his hips lifting almost involuntarily as she reaches out to touch the length of his erection, a feathery tentative caress that has him twitching in her palm and eyeing the ceiling with rising gasps.

“Annie, I… _Fuck._ ”

The low throaty growl hissing between his teeth makes her touch bolder, her strokes more insistent as he hardens in her grasp. She captures his grunts and groans with her mouth, teasing him with her tongue in a rhythm that matches her hands perfectly, like she knows exactly what she’s doing, like she’s done this a hundred times before.

But she hasn’t.

 _Not yet_.

Annie jumps a little when Jeff catches her wrist and rolls on top of her with an animalistic kind of growl, and there's a messy moment of tangled limbs, lips grazing lips and searching tongues, before her legs part to cradle the weight of his body and he showers her face with kisses - the corner of her mouth, cheek, jaw, temple, down the arch of her neck and across her collarbone.

His breath is warm and makes her shiver.

He watches her as he nuzzles a path across her breasts, and when he circles her nipple with his tongue and sucks it into his mouth with a hum of pleasure, Annie whimpers, spine arching off the bed, her fingers tightening in his hair.

She expected the desire swooping low in her belly, sending all the blood between her legs; the slow burn and build and writhing need to release, just like she feels sometimes when she’s in her room and it’s late and she’s alone, and her fingers wander to places so few have ever been.

But she didn’t expect the overwhelming _want_ thrumming beneath her skin that has her head rolling side to side on the pillow, moaning loud with a voice she doesn’t recognize – womanly, aroused, lost - making her fingers pinch the solid muscle of his biceps.

Opening her eyes, she stops grinding mindlessly against his pelvis long enough to notice Jeff has stilled, watching her with darkened eyes. Her cheeks warm embarrassedly and she has to force herself not to look away.

“Don’t stop. You look so…” He swallows thickly again. “You’re...”

Her heart flutters at the look on his face, the dart of his eyes between hers so weighty and intense, and she reaches for his hand, kissing his fingertips before she places them almost timidly over her breast because she's not sure what else to say.

Jeff meets her slow smile, ducking to kiss her again, and when he pulls away Annie watches his palm draw a path down her sternum, his eyes darkening when her stomach muscles tense and tremble as his fingers slowly circle her navel and slide down between her thighs.

“Beautiful,” he whispers.

And she feels it – with every graze of his eyes, every kiss to her collarbone. At his touch she whimpers and arches her hips a little and his tongue meets hers and she quivers against it, clutching at the sheets frantically as she grows slick around his fingers.

“Jeff,” she murmurs against his mouth, moving in time with his hand as she throbs and pulses and oh _oh_ … “Jeff, I want…I…”

“ _Yes_ , tell me.” Jeff breathes hot and uneven against her ear, lifting tufts of her mussed hair, as his fingers still, unmoving, inside her. “Say it.”

There’s something in his voice – a desperation she’s never heard before – that has her growling, “I want you inside me.” Her heart races, adrenaline now pulsing rapid and hot through every limb as she tests the words in her head before she whispers, “Fuck me. _Please_.”

It happens quickly then, a fumbled rush for a condom, ripping the packet open with his teeth, and Annie barely has the time to feel embarrassed by her words or watch him roll it on before he’s settled between her thighs and entering her with a tender restraint that she can feel in every sinew stretched across his back.

He stills instantly and looks at her, _really_ looks at her because _god_ , he’s inside her, stretching her out so fully, and she trembles for a moment, breasts heaving with every shuddery breath.

“You okay?”

“Uh huh.” Her fingers tighten against his lower back as she shifts her hips impatiently. “I want you to move.”

He growls through gritted teeth and thrusts slowly, watching every bite of her lips and flutter of her eyelashes as he sets a tentative rhythm but it’s not enough. She wants more.

Her hand dips down to cup his ass, feeling every clench of his cheeks as he works inside her, moaning "Harder" against his mouth, pushing him deeper than she thought possible as he grunts, “Fucking hell, Annie,” into her neck.

He reaches under her thigh and lifts it higher against his torso, the position spreading her wider, and her spine arches, and he thrusts and she groans and he fucks. _  
_

The air shrivels as they move together, filling the room with beaten breaths and whispers stolen by lips swollen and wet with saliva. Annie can feel every brush of his skin against hers, every bead of sweat across his shoulder blades as her nails score red and her stomach tightens and soon enough her hips lift as she clamps tightly around him, wave after wave of rolling bliss that sets her writhing and shuddering mindlessly, screaming breathily against his mouth.

 _"_ Holy fuck, _”_ Jeff whispers, breath hot against her skin as he increases his pace inside her, and there’s a moment when Annie drifts off, consumed by the pulse and throb of pleasure between her thighs, only distantly aware of his visceral grunts and the tightening of his body as he shudders above her.

Sometime later she rests on a pillow-less mattress, arms and legs flailed and boneless, her skin flushed and peppered with sweat even though Jeff rolled off her a while ago. She would blush at the mere thought but it feels wrong doing that now – not after everything she took, he gave, they did.

She doesn’t look at him beside her just as boneless and breathless, but she can hear him and feel him watching her and a little smile lifts her lips because she just had the best sex of her life and she doesn’t even care what happens tomorrow, it was so worth it.

“I need a drink,” she breathes on a contented sigh, her voice huskier than intended.

“Me too. Just,” he inhales deeply. “Give me…and I’ll…”

She giggles, rolling onto her side, resting her cheek on the back of her hand to watch him. “Did I wear you out?”

Jeff’s mouth curls into that flirty little smirk that makes her want to climb on top and ride it from him. His hand lands on her thigh and he squeezes the skin gently. “Annie, I think we both know it’s the other way around.”

“Oh, I must have confused all those gasps for air with something else.” She taps a knowing beat on his chest as if it were her chin. “Do you have asthma?”

He laughs and gives her thigh a little slap. “No, but that was…”

Impulsively she shifts and Jeff makes a little “oof” noise as she straddles him, her palms trailing up his abdomen, slowly mapping out the indents there. She falls forward until her breasts are pressed against his chest and they slide together all skin and sweat and her mouth hovers above his, her hair a mess of strands around them as she grins wickedly.

“Want to go again?”

His eyes have that impish twinkle that she loves as his fingers graze the length of her thighs, up and down from knee to hip in a way that makes her shiver. “Uh, _yeah_. You’ll have to give me a minute though Annie, _Jesus_.”

She gives him five.


	6. Chapter 6

The rain drums a heavy repetitive beat against the window and Jeff yawns silently, watching the rivulets of water bead and trickle wavy paths down the glass; the sky beyond full of ashen clouds. Annie’s head rests heavy on his chest and Jeff has a fleeting moment of panic before he smiles at the sight of her tucked against him, breath soft and even against his skin, hand loosely splayed low on his stomach. He’s never been one for snuggling, least of all after sex, but it actually feels...nice.

Yeah. Pretty damn nice.

He fingers a messy tangle of her hair as he remembers the events of last night, unable to stop the automatic fire of his blood or the grin from spreading wide across his cheeks. Her response to him, once she relaxed and let go, was just. Sure, he'd thought about it many times, in a wide range of scenarios too, but never once imagined it'd be this...intense.

Or maybe he was just kidding himself.

Thankfully, he doesn't have more time to freak out about things because Annie’s mouth smacks together soft and wet as she blinks to consciousness and Jeff can feel her muscles tremor as she tenses in a stretch and quiet yawn. She wriggles a little, eyelashes fluttering against his skin for a few minutes and Jeff keeps perfectly still the whole time, wondering how this is going to play out and what Annie’s thinking about as she taps the pad of her finger against his chest, the movement almost absentminded. She must sense he’s awake by the panic of his heart beneath her ear and she rolls her head up to look at him, a little surprised to find him watching her.

“Hi,” she says, and the sound is soft, tentative.

“Morning,” he says around a smile and watches as she swallows heavily, so much that he feels the movement of her throat against his skin. She chews on her lower lip, her eyes flitting between his for a long moment that nearly stretches the line of awkward, and Jeff is stirred by a strange mixture of nervousness and excitement for what happens next.

“Um. What time is it?”

He throws a glance at his watch sitting on the bedside table and winces because he knows exactly what’s coming once he tells her. “It’s _kind of_ 10.30am.”

“WHAT?” Her anxiousness falls away as she sits up in bed, snatching the sheet close to her chest and frantically looking around the room, presumably for her clothes. “I hate wasting the day!”

“Annie, relax,” he says, and strokes the naked curve of her spine with the backs of his fingers, softly. “It’s only 10.30, it’s not the afternoon.”

Her shoulders slump and to his relief, she lets Jeff pull her back against him. She's not tucked as close as before but it's something.

“I know but there’s so much to see and do. You don't come all the way to London to sleep in, Jeff. That's crazy talk.”

“Yeah, but we had a late night didn’t we?”

“I guess,” she says quietly, but he can hear the smile in her voice as she starts tracing aimless patterns on his abdomen.

Last night she traced them lower.

“Besides, it’s practically illegal to not sleep in at least once on vacation.”

“Hmm. Your lawyer tactics might be working on me.”

“In that case…” Jeff rolls on top of her and Annie shrieks in surprise as he snatches at her wrists and pins her hands against the pillows, breath all hot against her mouth as he leans in close. “Can I make a suggestion?”

“I don’t know, can you?” She smiles, all naughty and flirty as she presses up to kiss him and he releases her hands so she’s free to run her fingers through his mussed hair, smiling against his mouth at the low groan he emits when she scratches his scalp lightly.  He likes that and now she knows just how much. Her tongue finds his easily, coaxing hot and wet as her palms slide down to map out the musculature of his back, even though she probably knows it well enough by now.

Jeff moans into her mouth before he tears away. “It’s raining today, Annie,” he says, and kisses a path down the arch of her neck that he knows she likes given the noise she made the night before, his tongue flicking wetly at the pulse slightly rapid above her collarbone.

"I…I can see that."

“You know how much I hate the rain.”

“Mmm-hmm.”

“So I vote we stay in bed. Room service, nakedness, British TV, nakedness.” He punctuates each point with a kiss down her sternum, his hand cradling the span of her ribcage just beneath her breast. “What more could we want?”

"Mmm," she breathes, fingers teasing the short ends of his hair at the base of his neck. “Tempting but no. I have lots planned and -”

“Okay,” Jeff sighs in defeat, resting his forehead against hers. “But if we have to get dressed and leave this room, can we just, I don’t know, take it easy today? See what happens when we throw out the map?”

Annie gasps. “I can’t do that, Jeff! What if we get lost?”

“Then we get lost.”

Her eyes narrow but there’s a gleefulness shining there. “Okay," she concedes eventually. "But I still need to go back to my hostel to shower and change and,” she shoots up in bed, nearly whacking Jeff in the face and sending him rolling back against his pillows. “Oh god. I’ve got to do the walk of shame in last night’s dress! This is so embarrassing.”

“Walk of shame?” He chuckles. “It should be renamed the Walk of _Ha ha_ I just got laid and you’re all jealous.”

“You would say that because you’re a guy.” She glares at him pointedly like it's all his fault and shuffles out of bed, awkwardly tugging the sheet and struggling to cover her nakedness. “It’s different for women,” she says, and blows her hair out of her face once the material is tucked under her arms.

“Annie, you're forgetting. I’ve seen everything. Drop the sheet. Come on.”

She fists the sheet between her breasts. “No.”

“After everything we did last night?”

"It's different." She throws a glance at the bed and the flush bleeds across her cheeks in remembrance. “We, we were having sex.”

Jeff rolls out of bed and strolls around in all his naked glory to stand in front of her, watching the tremble of Annie’s neck as she swallows hard, smiling at the flit and drop of her gaze all over him, like she's not sure where to look but doesn't want to stop.

“You either drop the sheet or I’m pulling it off you. Your call.”

"Why?" She shakes her sleep-mussed hair from her shoulders. “Why does it matter?”

“Well, one, I like to look at you.” Jeff grins at the coy twist to her lips. “And two, I don’t think the hotel will be pleased if we get their sheets wet in the shower. I mean, it's not exactly throwing the TV out the window or trashing the room levels of unacceptable, but it's up there."

Her eyes widen a little. “You…you want to shower with me?”

He nods determinedly because he really fucking does, probably has ever since the day she ended up covered in orange paint and he wanted to be the sponge that washed it all off.

“If you’re refusing to stay in bed with me for the day, then I’m insisting on starting the morning with you in that shower pressed up against the tiles. Fair’s fair, Annie.”

The silence has Jeff’s heart racing and he swallows the unease lodged in his throat – the fear that she could say no, the fear of what happens after she says yes. They haven’t defined what they’re doing and the weight of that is all around them, even more in the light of a new day - the morning after. For all he knows Annie just wanted one night together and he’s just put it out there like an idiot that he wants, well, more.

 _Jesus Christ_.

He wants more.

Choosing to ignore that terrifying thought, Jeff watches the hesitation play with her lower lip and the nervous twist of her fingers where the sheet is knotted between her breasts. On impulse he walks his fingertips up the length of her arm, and they watch each other as he follows the jut of her collarbone with a feather-light caress and leaves his fingers to linger there, hovering delicately above her cleavage in soft slight strokes. She breathes a little faster.

“I’ll let you use my shower products.”

Her eyes slip down when he hooks one finger under the sheet. She lifts her chin boldly but there's a quiver there. “Is that supposed to convince me?”

“Hey, I don’t share them with just anybody, Annie. They’re special. Imported from Australia.”

“Australia, huh?” She smiles wryly. “And you’d let _me_ use them? I’m honored.”

“You should be.”

Their smiles meet softly, briefly, for a single beat before Annie clenches her eyes shut, huffs a breath of defeat and quickly unravels the sheet. Jeff's mouth twitches with affection, and a little burst of relief and adrenaline spikes through him at the flap and flutter of white material slithering to the floor.

“Happy now?”

He roams the length of her naked body, eagerly, even though he has it memorized now. “Ecstatic.” His voice is thick and throaty as he leans to whisper in her ear. “Look at me.”

Her eyes snap open, widening when he steps closer, skin brushing skin as they inhale and exhale simultaneously. He eases away a corner of the sheet still clutched in one of Annie's hands and threads their fingers together instead.

“Don’t feel embarrassed. You’re beautiful. You have no idea. Okay?”

Annie nods numbly, shrieking in delighted surprise when Jeff grabs her around the waist and lifts her up effortlessly, hands sliding down to grip her ass. Winding both arms around his shoulders for some kind of anchor, her legs automatically tighten around his hips and she laughs against his mouth and his kisses as Jeff bounds into the bathroom hurriedly, thoughts of getting clean forgotten.

 

 

~x~

 

 

Inside the sheltered doorway of Starbucks on the Strand, Annie shakes out the excess water from her umbrella before looping the end over her wrist and wandering inside. The air is filled with the rich scent of coffee beans and chocolate and the whooshing sound of steaming milk. She takes a moment to scan every occupied table and chair, and her chest feels all fluttery when she spots Jeff in the corner, head cast downwards to his phone. There's already little wisps of steam rising above a cup in front of him, so she joins the line and orders a drink for herself.

Bouncing lightly on foot as she waits for her drink, Annie glances back to where Jeff sits, startled when their eyes meet instantly, like he was already watching. It's all she needs for the memories of last night to wash over her - lips trailing down her torso, his tongue licking a line up her thigh, his fingers greedy for her everywhere, the way he felt inside her, and then this morning…Her face and ears flush with heat and she has to swallow down the little whimper of arousal bubbling up in her throat.

She wants so badly to play things cool right now, keep things as breezy as possible despite everything that's happened between them, but Jeff's looking at her so intently and there's a restless nervous energy surging through her body at the depth of this… _unknown_ unfolding itself before her. She's never been in this type of situation before and she's not sure what happens next.

She's kind of winging it. Like Jeff Winger.

“Miss?”

Annie jolts at the sound of the barista leaning over the counter, his eyebrows raised bemusedly at her clearly lost in thought. “Huh?”

“Your order?” He pushes a china cup and matching plate across the wooden counter. “Low-fat dry cappuccino.”

“Oh.” Her head shakes a little dazedly as she stares at the leaf pattern etched into the foam. “Thank you.”

With a deep steadying breath, Annie moves to grab a stack of napkins and sugar packets before making her way to the table, slowly, too aware of Jeff still watching every step. There’s something different in the darkened depths of his eyes and she wonders if this is what it’s going to be like between them from now on – that lingering awareness of each other’s bodies, the explicit memory of their sweat-slicked skin brushing together heatedly.

Oh, she’s filled with this overwhelming need to throw herself at him, trace the line of his back and bite at the corded muscle of his thighs, and she wonders if he feels the same – if what they’ve unleashed affects him just as much. Annie never thought she’d be the kind of woman who just wants to have sex all day but she does.

She _really_ does. 

“Hey.”

Startled by the sound of his voice – the same deep husky tone he used when he had his fingers inside her and whispered all the things he wanted to do to her - Annie spills a little of her drink as she sits down. She flusters as she grabs at the napkins, dropping them once before her brain finally connects to her fingers and she wipes hurriedly at the mess. Jeff watches her, half intrigued, half amused, as all the napkins slowly bleed white to a murky sort of brown.

“You’re late," he says, finally pocketing his phone. "You okay?”

“Oh, sorry, yes, fine, I’m fine!” Her voice is pitched higher than normal and she coughs to settle it, shaking a couple of sugar packets with an erratic flap before tearing off the ends. “It took a while to get back to the hostel because of the weather. It’s like no one’s seen rain before.”

"Somehow, I doubt it."

"It's mayhem out there, Jeff," she says, stirring her drink as hard as she can with the little plastic spoon, blending the leaf pattern until it disappears into the foam. "You'd think the Brits would be used to bad weather. It's-"

Their knees suddenly bump and graze underneath the table and, even though they’re both wearing jeans, the feel of his leg sliding in between hers stirs the memory of their limbs tangled in bed and this sets off a chain of similar memories, similar heated moments that make Annie gasp, all other thoughts slipping away. At the sound, barely audible in the din of the café, their gazes meet heatedly and they stare at each other for a long while, wordless and unmoving, coffees cooling between them.

Jeff is the first one to break, his eyes flitting between the accelerated rise and fall of Annie’s chest and the way she's biting her lower lip as her gaze flickers to his mouth and his grin widens slowly, almost mischievously, as he props his elbows on the table to lean forward.

“Annie.”

Startled, her eyes shoot wide, meeting his intently above the rim of her cup as she takes a steadying sip. “Yes?”

He reaches out to smooth the line of foam from her upper lip, and the touch is almost startling. “You’re turned on right now, aren’t you?”

She gasps, “No!” though her cheeks flush and Jeff chuckles, low and throaty, as she glances over her shoulders to check no one heard.

“Hey, it’s okay.” He smiles impishly and sucks the coffee foam off his thumb, and Annie knows it's cliché but it's all really working for her right now. “The feeling’s mutual.”

“It is?”

“Uh, _yeah_. You know, my offer to spend the day in bed still stands.”

Her mouth parts soundlessly. “I thought you were joking.”

“Seriously?” His head shakes incredulously as she nods kind of dumbly now. “Well, I wasn’t so let’s blow this joint.”

He starts to rise from his seat but Annie stops him, palming his forearm firmly until he resettles. “No.”

“Why not?”

Because she needs time to think things through.

Because they haven’t defined what they’re doing, not once.

_Because because because…_

She can think of a hundred reasons why not, if only she let herself, even though every part of her aches with wanting to throw caution to the wind, just like she did last night. But she doesn't think Jeff would want to hear any of them, not now.

“Because it’s the daytime, Jeff," she settles on instead. "And you know I don’t like to waste the day by spending it in bed.”

Jeff slouches backwards in his chair and Annie knows instantly she’s said the wrong thing.

“Wow. I’m sorry the idea of sex with me is so wasteful but whatever.”

“Oh Jeff, no, that’s not what -” she sighs, reaching forward to squeeze his hand. “Last night was great.”

“Yeah?” he says around a smirk, but there's a trace of uncertainty there, a boyish vulnerability which surprises her because she never imagined _he_ would be the one needing reassurance about their night together.

“Yes.”

"And this morning," he says, sitting a little higher, straighter, clearly pleased with himself and his sexual prowess, and Annie can't help but roll her eyes.

"And this morning," she agrees, unable to keep the amusement shading her voice. "All I'm saying is we can control our libidos during the daytime. Right?"

Even as she says it she knows it’s ridiculous which, in itself, is ridiculous.

He huffs out a laugh and shrugs. “Sure, I can do that. No worries.”

But then their eyes fuse again, for a minute, a heartbeat, an inhale of breath, and their table starts to shake and Annie leans to the side to see Jeff’s thigh jiggling relentlessly.

She presses her lips together to restrain her growing smile.

 

 

~x~

 

 

When they eventually finish lunch a couple of hours later, Annie leads them to the undercover market in Covent Garden as the closest place to keep dry. The rain scores a heavy patter against the glass shelter arched above, and Jeff mostly follows the sight of Annie's ass encased tightly in jeans, desperately trying to stifle his complaints that they ever bothered to leave the warmth of his bed.

He gets it though. He does. It just doesn't help knowing Annie is as turned on as he is, that she's thinking about last night just as much. He feels consumed by it, every time their eyes meet when she throws a glance over her shoulder, every time their hands brush as they walk side by side, by accident or design he's not quite sure. It was there at the table at lunch too, when Annie sat closer than usual and licked the rim of his scotch glass, right there in front of him, possibly to torture or give him some kind of cardiac arrest. It seems like something she would do.

As they weave through the crowds from one stall to another, from jewelry to paintings to pottery and beyond, Jeff considers the tension simmering between them and Annie's reluctance to do something about it. Deep down he knows the reason for her hesitance and he probably only has himself to blame. And he knows Annie's not the kind of woman who would throw out her plans just to have sex all day, which is kind of admirable, Jeff guesses, but the thought still has his fists clenching tight every now and then, especially when all he can think about is the way her breasts felt in his hands and the heat of her breath across his neck. _  
_

It's fucking with his goddamn mind.

When they reach the end of the market Jeff rests his hand on the small of Annie’s back, cautiously this time. He's not sure if it's the best idea but now that he's touched her so imtimately, in all the ways he's wanted to for so long, he's finding it diffcult to employ his usual level of restraint.

“So, this was the most boring market ever. Where now?”

"I don't know," Annie shrugs, turning into him and wrapping an arm around his waist. “You’re the one who wanted to take it easy, throw the map away.”

“I know but holy crap, I’m so bored.” Jeff enfolds her closer, tighter, both satisfied and simultaneously tormented by her warmth and proximity. “I blame you for this. You’ve run me ragged the last five days and now I don’t know what to do with myself now that we’ve stopped.”

“Um, objection! And _ragged_?”

“That’s right. Ragged. This is supposed to be a vacation.”

"I thought you said this wasn't a vacation, huh?" Annie shakes her head, though she's smiling. “And what is it about the rain that turns all adults into giant whiny kids? You’ll be jumping in puddles next.”

“Yeah right. Do you know how much these boots cost?”

She's halfway through rolling her eyes at him when she jumps with a start. “Oooh oooh! I know what we could do. What about the multiplex? There were three in Leicester Square and it’s only a short walk.”

“Yeah but we’ve seen all the movies already. Damn the consequences of knowing Abed.”

“Hmm. Good point.” Her lips pucker in thought. “Museum?”

Jeff rolls his head back with a groan. “You might as well just kill me now.”

“How about another bus tour?”

“Seriously, let’s just go dig my grave.”

“Okay. Let’s go outside.”

“I wasn’t serious, Annie.”

“I know that. Besides, I don't have a shovel."

"Nice."

"I thought so." She beams at him, smugly too. "I actually meant let’s just go out. It’s pointless standing in here. It’s too crowded.”

“But Annie,” he whines and bounces a little. “The weather is out there.”

“That’s what umbrellas are for, dummy.”

Jeff growls his reluctance but soon concedes at the fluttering of Annie's eyelashes - he really needs to work on rebuilding that immunity at some point - and they make their way outside. Just as they reach the cobbles, a gust of wind kicks the heavy rain sideways, soaking them instantly despite Annie hurriedly unfolding her umbrella.

He eyes her cynically, pinching at his shirt now plastered damply to his skin. “You were saying?”

“Shut up.” She flushes, handing Jeff the umbrella and curling close to his chest. “I’d like to hear your bright ideas.”

“Oh, I have plenty of them.” He glances down at her nestled against him, the sensation definitely not unpleasant despite their soaking. “You just don’t want to hear any of them right now.”

There’s no real impetus to move so they huddle underneath their purple shield, watching the street entertainers endure the wrath of the weather and the bob of different colored umbrellas as people hurry across the cobbled market square.

The silence is littered with the _tip tap_ of rain, and Annie sniffles repeatedly at the droplets of water running down her nose from her hair. Jeff tucks the damp strands obscuring her vision behind her ear, drawing his fingers down the rosy soft skin of her cheek.

“Hey.”

Their eyes meet and Jeff is not imagining the tightening of her nipples against his chest or her fingers tugging against his shirt and _fuck_ she smells _so_ good.

She bounces a little against him. “Hey.”

“Can I tell you something?”

Her whole face sort of lifts in surprise, though it's fleeting. “Always.”

“You know earlier when we were talking about last night?” She nods, eyes widening expectantly. “Well, I never…” He takes a deep breath to steady his heart. “I realized I hadn’t exactly told you how great it was for me too and… I’m glad I’m here with you, Annie. You know that, right?”

Jeff is mesmerized by the beads of condensation dusting her eyelashes as she blinks up at him. “I do now.”

She stretches on tiptoe, fingers smoothing through his stubble-lined jaw to bring him down to meet her. Their lips barely touch, the kiss too soft, too brief before she pulls away, but Jeff’s lips tingle at the sensation when the last time he kissed her was after their shower that morning.

It feels like a lifetime ago.

They stand there blinking at each other in the wind and the rain and Jeff feels a little less weighed down by the truths he’s uttered, a little empowered by his own honesty. He wants to tangle his hands in Annie's hair and tug her close, kiss her breath away, maybe savour the taste of her moan against his mouth. His gaze drops to her lips and further down to her chest rising rapidly on every shuddered breath and the lick of his lips is unconsciously done at this point.

“Jeff.”

He's startled for a moment but he knows she’s caught him looking, knows what she can see written all over his face because it’s written on hers too. “Annie.”

She watches her fingers toy with a button on his shirt before slowly meeting his eyes. “Do you remember what I said yesterday – that if we got wet we’d have to go back to your hotel and take off all our clothes?”

_Fuck yes._

His blood pumps harder. “I vaguely remember you saying something along those lines.”

“Well, I don’t know about you but I’m pretty wet right now.”

_Holy fuck does she have any idea what she’s doing to him?_

“Really? Huh.” His voice cracks slightly. “Well, in that case I’m wet too. Soaking. Drowned. _Drenched_ -”

“Okay, okay.” Annie giggles. “I get it.”

“So...?”

“So…” She chews on her lower lip just the way he likes, palms sliding slowly up his chest, pressing her hips against his in the best possible way. “How fast can you hail a taxi?”

 

 

~x~

 

 

Jeff ushers Annie into his hotel elevator and presses the button for the tenth floor. It’s silent while the doors slide shut and the elevator lurches lightly to rise. As the air narrows, dwarfing the already limited space around them, Jeff's suddenly very aware of his hands and his pulse and the sense memory of Annie's tongue against his neck, the soft bite of her teeth there.

As soon as their eyes meet something breaks.

They reach for each other at once, hands to hips, mouth to mouth, and Jeff thrusts Annie against the mirror lining the interior, groaning in relief as their tongues finally meet in a wet messy caress. With each desperate inhale she makes these breathless throaty whimpers that has him grinding against her pelvis, eager and without finesse. She clutches at his damp shirt, his hair, shoulders, neck, anywhere her hands can reach, drawing her thigh up around his hip, her heel pressing into the back of his leg to get as close as possible. Jeff palms her thigh from knee to hip, growling in frustration at the lack of access to her skin. He curses under his breath and fumbles awkwardly with the button and zip of her jeans before he eases a flattened palm inside, barely grazing the lace edge of her panties.

Annie gasps and arches into his touch, her voice whispering a strangled, “Jeff?”

He licks the line of her pulse on her neck, mouthing “What?” against her damp flesh before nuzzling the soft skin with his nose and a kiss, repeating the pattern all the way down to her collarbone.

She smells like rain.

“I know it’s not the time to ask but what…uh…” The words hitch on a breath as his fingers finally slip underneath the elastic of her panties until he can feel her heat and she writhes mindlessly, her hands clenching against his biceps with every movement of his fingers. “ _Oh god,_ what are we doing?”

Jeff grumbles throatily as he pushes away, reluctantly pulling his hand out of her panties and pressing it flat behind her head, his palm leaving sweaty steamy prints against the mirror as he imprisons her in his warmth. His whole body sags and he rests his forehead against hers for a moment while they both catch their breath. Annie's foot falls slowly back to meet the floor but she hooks her fingers into his belt loops to keep him close.

“We’re…” Jeff swallows thickly, eyes flitting from hers to her lips and back again. “I thought that was obvious, Annie.”

“Well, yes.” She makes a show of rolling her hips in a way that leaves little doubt to how their pelvises are pressed together, and he huffs out a breath as she smiles. “But I just want to make sure you know what you’re doing.”

“I kind of thought I proved that already but if you wait five minutes I’ll show you again.” He grins wickedly, pressing a soft kiss to the corner of her mouth. "And again."

“But…” She moans as he kisses a trail along her jawline, and tightens her grip on his belt. “I mean, we go to bed right now it’s no longer, you know, a one night thing.”

“Annie, it stopped being a one night thing the minute we fucked in the shower this morning.”

“Jeff!”

“What? Was that not what happened? Did I imagine it?”

“No, but I wouldn’t put it in such plain terms.”

Jeff huffs out a breathy laugh, pushing himself away slightly. He draws her gaze up from where it had settled all embarrassed somewhere in the corner, takes note of the expectant lift of her eyebrows with a sigh. “Okay, let’s put it this way. Was it ever a one night thing?”

She blinks up at him, silent, eyeing his features with a piercing kind of focus, and Jeff presses hard against the mirror at the uncertainity of what she's about to say, his brain just starting to venture into _'oh shit what have I done?'_ territory, when she shakes her head softly, smiling slightly as her gaze dances between his face and the floor.

“No -”

“Good. I agree. Now shut up.” He grips her face tightly, growling with relief and frustration as their lips meet desperately again.

They make out with the kind of franticness Jeff hasn’t felt in a long time – hands almost feverish, lips bitten and broken moans – and it consumes them both until a stuttered cough startles the air around them. Confused and a little disorientated at first, they jerk apart to the amused expression of an elderly man standing outside the elevator doors. Jeff laughs, deftly tugging Annie in front of him so her back is pressed against his chest because seriously, he doesn’t want this old guy to see his erection poking through his pants. Annie flushes the reddest he’s ever seen, hiding her shock behind her fingertips and staring at the floor and Jeff can tell she's trying real hard not to run away right now.

None of them make a move to speak and eventually, Jeff shrugs. “What can I say? She just can’t keep her hands off me.”

“Jeff!” she yelps and he chuckles, imagining her eyes bugging wide.

Shaking his head with a smile, the man wanders into the elevator just as Jeff walks Annie out of it like some kind of rag doll, holding her hips tightly.

As the doors begin to slide shut the old man waves a hearty fist. “Go on my son, go give her one!”

“What? Give her…?” Annie spins around, brow pinched in confusion before she shrieks loudly, wide eyed at the dawning realization of the man’s words and what they mean, while Jeff laughs loudly. The deep rumbling bounces off the low ceiling and the rows of numbered doors along the hallway until it sounds like he’s laughing from all directions.

“Jeff!” She whacks his shoulder a few times before gasping at the sight of her jeans still unzipped and showing the top of her panties, and she desperately gropes for the button, even though no one is around and Jeff knows he’s going to tear them off her pretty soon. He steps closer again, still grinning as he slides his palms along her bright pink cheeks when she finally looks up from her completed task.

“It’s not funny. He knew we were -”

“Who cares, Annie? He’s right. I am gonna give you one, two, maybe three if you’re lucky.” He chuckles again, lifting his eyebrows with a suggestive wiggle, palming her hips tightly and slowly backing her in the direction of his room and it’s a frenzied blundering rush to swipe the door with his key card because seriously, the mechanics of door opening is the last thing on Jeff’s mind.

 

 

~x~

 

 

Much later, Annie sits at the small table in Jeff’s room perched on a chair in nothing but a sheet, surrounded by the lingering scent of cooked food. Jeff sits opposite in his boxer-briefs and nothing else, the table between them covered in the remnants of their dinner, the TV playing mutely in the background. The air is cool against Annie’s back where the sheet has loosened but as she sips on her glass of wine – her body relaxed from three hours spent in bed, blood buzzing from the alcohol and the way Jeff is watching her - Annie finds she doesn’t care. Jeff has seen, touched and tasted every inch of her body and she loved it – she encouraged it pretty enthusiastically at times – so why should she be embarrassed?

The thought is so simple it’s liberating.

“You were right.” Annie swirls her fingertip around the sauce splattered on her now empty plate before sucking it into her mouth and releasing her finger with a satisfied pop. “Room service, British TV and nakedness was the best plan ever. I should have listened to you this morning.”

Jeff chuckles, eyes darkening as the sheet slips to expose one breast. Annie follows the direction of his gaze before meeting it with a wicked smile, sitting back languidly in the chair, placing her arms along the padded armrests and making no move to cover herself.

“Can I get that in writing please?” he says.

“Shut up,” she laughs, and the silence is only punctuated by the swish of liquid as Jeff takes a swig of beer. They watch each other for a few minutes and Annie’s skin practically tingles at the intensity, the pulse of air around their stillness. “What are you thinking about?”

“Lots of things. Mainly how glad I am that you have to wear clothes at college.”

She tickles the underside of his outstretched foot with her toes and smiles when he jolts a little at the sensation. “Oh?”

“If I had to sit across the study room table with you looking like that, well, let’s just say I’d get battered by Shirley and her giant purse and I don’t know what she keeps in there but that thing is heavy.”

“I know, right?” They both laugh at the thought of their friend and Annie continues, “During our suspension, Troy and Abed were so bored they nearly went on a mission to solve the ‘mystery of Shirley’s purse’ but I stopped them just in time. I don’t think they’d be alive if I hadn’t.”

“That or they’d have no testicles.”

“Ouch and ew. Let’s not talk about my roommates testicles please. Those are mysteries that I never want to solve.”

Jeff rolls his head back, eyeing the ceiling as he laughs hard. Annie watches him with a wide smile, her heart fluttering at the sound. It’s not often that she hears Jeff laugh heartily – a deep rumbling belly laugh that she can feel vibrating beneath her toes – and it gives her a little thrill. It’s nice to see him so relaxed and happy, especially after the year they’ve had – he’s had. Sometimes, when her mind wanders in her quiet moments alone, she still thinks about that moment he cried at Shirley’s wedding and how surprised she was to see how deeply affected he really was inside. The shock of it all, of his feelings, had burrowed inside her, eating away until it kind of…hurt?

Jeff’s laughter trails off slowly at the look on her face. “What?”

“Nothing. Just. I like seeing you like this.”

“Half naked?” He palms his muscled lower abdomen with a _slap_. “Most people do, Annie.”

“No.” His eyebrows rise and Annie shakes her head in a fluster. “Well, yes, obviously I like that too but I meant seeing you so happy. Earlier this year, thinking about it, you didn’t really smile much and I, well, I noticed.”

Jeff's silent for a moment, staring at his fingers picking at the beer label, before he says, "You're right. It's not been the easiest year of my life." His mouth curls downwards, head nodding lightly as he considers. "I guess my issues with my Dad were a lot to do with it.”

She tilts her head to one side. “Why is that?” she asks, and at the sight of his frown Annie clarifies, “I mean, you’ve always had Dad issues so what happened to bring them out now?”

“I’m not sure. More time on my hands maybe? The things Pierce said to me last year after he OD’d definitely got me thinking more about it.”

Annie notes the deep furrowing of Jeff’s brow in thought and doesn’t like it. She doesn’t want to see that now.

“Wow. So Pierce _is_ helpful sometimes.”

Jeff's laugh is breathy and disbelieving and _thisclose_ to a scoff. “It’s only helpful if I wanted to think about my Dad. I didn’t. I still don't. Not really.”

“Well, you didn’t want to but you needed to.”

“You think there’s a difference?”

Annie nods, a small soft smile tugging at her lips. “Absolutely. You can’t carry that anger around forever, Jeff. It might suck now but it will be better in the long run. I just know it.”

The smile crawls slowly across Jeff’s face, his head shaking in awe. “Your faith in things amazes me.”

Annie flushes, her stomach tumbling at the intensity of his words and the heat of his gaze and she lurches to her feet to look out of the window, clutching the sheet loosely, aware of it sweeping low and barely covering her behind. The sky is black and starless from the brightness of the city lights and if she stands on her tiptoes she can see the top of the London Eye lit up blue, red and white in the distance. It’s still raining heavily, splinters of raindrops highlighted against the yellow streetlamp below, and Annie’s never been more grateful to be inside.

“So," Jeff says. "What are _you_ thinking about?”

Annie doodles a heart in the fading steam of her breath on the window and turns back to him still slouched in his seat, watching her eagerly as he knocks back the rest of his beer.

“I was just thinking how weird it is that my favorite day in London was mostly spent inside a hotel room.”

Her heart leaps when she thinks about what she’s just admitted but the grin that spans his cheeks is wonderful, stretching to wrinkle the corners of his eyes, just the way she likes. She can't regret it, making him smile. It's impossible. 

“Yeah?” he asks, and Annie nods, a little embarrassed. “Why is that weird?”

“Well, seeing all the sights should be the highlight not, you know, being in here like this.”

“But that’s the Winger guarantee baby.”

“Ugh, your ego knows no bounds. How do you know I wasn’t talking about our dinner or when we watched the BBC, huh?”

“Impossible. The majority of the time was spent in bed. With me. It’s simple math.”

She smiles and watches him briefly, head tilted to one side while she sizes him up and starts to pad towards him. “You know what we should do now?”

“No.” He places the beer bottle on the table with a _clunk._  “But I’m sure you’ll tell me.”

Lifting the sheet from around her feet she straddles his lap, loving the way his palms automatically settle on her backside. The sheet drifts to her waist until she’s sitting on his lap topless and she slides her palms up and down his pecs and collarbone in greedy paths, pausing to curl her fingers into his shoulders.

“We should have a nice hot relaxing bath together.”

His face wrinkles in mild distaste. “Annie. First of all, I’m so relaxed I could fall over and secondly -”

“Jeff.”

“Hmm?” he grins, amused by her decisive tone. His fingertips stroking the curve of her spine send a shiver right through her, and she quivers in his lap as her arms prickle with goose bumps even though the room is far from cold.

“You can argue all you want, counselor, but you  _are_ going to have a bath with me.”

“Oh, am I?”

“Uh huh.” She smoothes the pad of one finger across his lips and down the jut of his jawline, pressing forward to whisper against the shell of his ear, “Resistance is futile.”

He shudders when her breasts graze against is chest, groaning throatily and clenching his eyes closed as she moves against him in a single slow grind. “Shit. You’ve learned how to harness your power. We should all be very afraid.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She presses a brief soft kiss to his lips before jumping off his lap as quickly as the tangled sheet allows. She shrieks in surprise when Jeff smacks her ass and keeps hold of the sheet, and grins at him wickedly over her shoulder as she runs completely naked into the bathroom.

She beams at her own reflection there for a minute too long.

Soon enough though, the small bathroom is filled with heat and steam and the musky scent of bubble bath that Annie found in the sink vanity. She tests the warmth of the water with her toes before lowering herself into the bubbles.

“ _Jeeeeff_?”

There's a small soft laugh in the other room and seconds later Jeff slouches against the door frame, arms folded as he eyes her, amused. “Yes? I'm guessing you want something.”

Annie blows a handful of bubbles. “Are you really going to stand over there while I’m all alone and naked and wet over here?” She lifts one shoulder to cheek, smiling at him beneath her eyelashes.

He chuckles, head shaking idly as he steps closer to the bath. “I was right you know – what I said yesterday. You’re evil.”

“You said I was an evil genius. There’s a difference.” Annie’s neck arches as she gazes up at his great height towering over her, biting her lower lip as she reaches out and tugs his boxers down his thighs, making sure to graze her fingernails across his skin, just the way he likes.

Jeff shudders. “Hmm. It’s a very thin line.”

Annie shimmies forward while Jeff climbs in behind her and there’s an awkward shuffle and _slip slap_ of water as he gets comfortable and Annie settles between his legs, feeling all kinds of triumphant that her plan was a success. Jeff ushers her closer until her back is pressed against his chest, her head rolled back against his shoulder.

“So," he says. "What do we do now?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, I’m in the bath. Now what?”

Annie grins, trying not to laugh. “Now we just relax.”

“Okay.” His hands sweep up her arms, leaving a trail of bubbles and beads of water. “Like this?”

“ _Yessssss,_ ” Annie whimpers breathlessly as he kneads at her shoulders, and for a few minutes she’s lulled by the firm brush of his hands, moaning when Jeff thumbs a hard knot. She’s aware of him mumbling words in her ear but perception of them is lost to the heat and press and daze of his hands.

At some point his movements stop and he curls his hands around the tops of her arms, giving her a little shake. "Annie." 

“Huh? Sorry. What? You're really good at that.”

He chuckles and resumes the massage of his fingers into her skin. “I asked what you wanted to do tomorrow. No doubt we’ll have to make up for today.”

Annie frowns because sightseeing was pretty much the last thing on her mind. “What day is it tomorrow?”

“Saturday.”

“Oh, well actually…” She pauses to lick her lips. “Would you, I mean…” She sighs and shakes her head, the wet ends of her hair sticking to her shoulders. “No, never mind.”

“Come on, what were you going to say?”

“When are you going back home?”

His fingers still on her shoulders and Annie can tell that was the last thing he expected her to say. They've not discussed going home once. Sometimes it feels like they're trapped in a bubble where home doesn't even exist.

“Well, I bought an open-ended ticket so I can go back whenever I want. Why?”

“Um, well, I kind of planned to go to Paris for a few days. It’s only a couple of hours away on the Eurostar. Be silly not to go really.”

“Oh, right. You didn’t mention it before.”

The disappointment in his voice makes her heart skip and gives her courage a much needed boost. “No, I guess I forgot.” She steals his hand from her shoulder to play with his fingers, more for distraction than anything else, and maybe a little reassurance for him that she's still here. “So, anyway. I mean, you can say no because I don’t want you to feel you have to and I understand if you -”

“Annie.”

“Yes?”

“Are you asking me to go to Paris with you?”

She tenses, just a fraction, and her eyes dart around the bathroom for an answer she'll never find. “Um, yes?”

“That sounded like a question.”

“Did it?”

“ _Annie_.”

“Okay, okay, yes. I’m asking if you’d like to come to Paris. I don’t expect you to. Just to be clear. I know it wasn’t in your plans. It’s just it was always part of mine and -”

“Yes.”

The water ripples as Annie shifts slightly, neck twisting to look back at him. “Yes?”

Jeff nods, shrugging one shoulder. “I’ve never been and you say it’s only two hours away. Why not?”

She frowns, feeling a little annoyed by his nonchalance, somehow expecting more.“Um, is that the only reason? Because I didn’t ask you so I could be your tour guide.” She snaps away to stare at the bubbles popping against the edge of the bath, although Jeff’s fingers slide wet against her cheek to force her gaze back to his only a second later.

“Annie. You’re smarter than that.”

“What does _that_ mean?”

“It means you already know that's not the only reason.”

“Well, no Jeff, I don’t, unless you tell me. I can’t read your mind and you can’t blame me for being a little reluctant to even try.”

She can feel his sigh shivery across her skin as he smoothes his fingers across her temple through hair damp from the steam.

“I’m sorry. Does it help if I say I want to go even though I couldn’t give a fuck about the Eiffel tower and all that shit and – _crap._ " His head falls against hers slightly. "You’re going to make me go up in that tower aren’t you?”

Annie smiles, her shoulders relaxing as she rests her head back against his chest, drawing his arms around her to rest underneath her bust. “Yes it helps and yes, I am.”

“Dammit.”

She runs her fingers along his forearms, watching his toes play with the tap. “The view will be worth it. I promise.”

“Yeah, not bothered about the view, Annie.”

“What if I let you hold my hand?”

“Oh, are we bargaining now?”

“Maybe. It worked before.”

“Hmm.” He scoops her hair to one side, baring her neck to scatter kisses to the damp curve of her shoulder, and Annie shudders as his hand reaches to cup and squeeze her breast. “In that case, I’m going to need more than hand holding.”

She arches into his touch, a little breathless suddenly. “What did you have in mind?”

There’s a slight pause filled with the drip drop of water from the tap. “I don’t want you to stay in a hostel.”

“ _Jeff,_ ” her voice drops warningly.

“No, hear me out. If we’re only going to Paris for a few days there’s no way I’m staying in a hostel, Annie.”

“You…you want me to stay with you? As in, _together?_ ”

“Uh, yeah. It’s, you know. This is kind of nice, right?”

Her pulse is all fluttery now Annie can’t stop the dance of butterflies even if she tried, but she uses every scrap of self-control not to wiggle excitedly against him. Instead she twists her head to press a kiss to his jaw, nuzzling him there softly. “The bath won you over didn’t it?”

He chuckles against her, “What can I say? Wet naked Annie does it for me,” and they both laugh, the sound bouncing off the bathroom tiles. “So is that a yes?”

She feels a spike of adrenaline buzzing through her bloodstream. “Yes.”

“Good.” There’s a triumphant lilt to his tone as he eases back against the bath, the water slapping and sloshing against the sides. “So, when do we leave?”


	7. Chapter 7

It’s nearly 8.30am when Jeff strolls into St Pancras Station, the concourse filled with commuters and tourists and the distant sound of trains rumbling along the tracks.

He spots Annie standing directly beside _The Meeting Place_ – a giant bronzed statue of a couple locked in an embrace – and Jeff wanders over, the monotonous sound of his suitcase wheels scoring a dull path behind him. He watches Annie bounce slightly, the way she does when she's anxious about something, and a smile tugs at his lips when she checks her wristwatch a couple of times, tapping the glass face impatiently and mumbling to herself - probably a curse at him and his lateness if history is anything to go by.

She looks so tiny dwarfed by the width and height of the statue – even more so underneath the arched windowed ceiling of the train shed, a pale light streaming in through the glass above, and Jeff halts immediately, his suitcase whacking the back of his heel as the enormity of their situation overwhelms him.

He’s going to Paris with Annie Edison.

They’re going to share a hotel room _together_.

He. Suggested. It.

 _Jesus Christ_ , his face feels really fucking hot like that one time he left a face-mask on ten minutes too long and it practically burned off a layer of his skin. His grip tightens white and sweaty around the plastic of his suitcase handle, and he feels shaky, skitter-y with nerves. He’s not really well versed in these kinds of things but a trip to Paris is usually something people do when they’re in a relationship and…and…

His stomach plummets at the thought and he’s pretty sure he can’t feel his own tongue.

“There you are!” Jeff somehow manages to draw his gaze away from his sneakers as Annie marches towards him, though the drag and weight of her backpack slows her down slightly. “Jeff, our train leaves in thirty-five minutes.”

He inhales and exhales a deep measured breath and places a palm on her shoulder – whether to steady her or himself he’s not sure. “Which means we still have thirty-five minutes to get on it. The train is right there, Annie. Relax.” He points to the bright yellow and blue train already stationed on the tracks below.

“I know but we’ve got to check-in downstairs and stowaway our luggage and…” She frowns then, and Jeff's not sure if the dash of her eyes across his face is impressive or unsettling because she knows him so well - enough to know something's not right.

“Are you feeling okay?” she asks.

“Yeah. Sure. Why?”

“Your face is really red. Did you use a new face product this morning?”

"No. I'm not an amateur, Annie. I only do that when I don't have to leave the house for a day or two, so if my skin reacts badly I can just hide until it looks better."

" _Of course_ you do." Stretching up on tiptoe Annie places the backs of her fingers across his forehead, smoothing down to stroke his cheek. “Jeff, you’re burning up.” Her eyes widen as she snatches her hand away and stumbles backwards, covering her mouth and nose with the collar of her shirt for some kind of half-assed protection. “Are you sick?”

“ _Me,_ sick? Like that’s even possible.” He coughs to clear the increasing pitch of his voice, and Annie notices.

“Jeff. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong. I’m just tired,” he says, scrubbing a palm down his face. “We had a late night and it’s too early for this and -”

“8.30am is not early.”

“For _you_ it’s not because you’re one of those weird happy morning people who wakes up like Cinderella and throws open the curtains to sing with the birds and animals and it’s hot today, right? I feel like it’s going to be hot.”

The sounds of the station weaves itself around them as she blinks up at him, expression unfathomable and completely disconcerting considering Annie Edison is the most facially expressive person Jeff has ever met. She nods in a way that seems absentminded and starts to wrestle with her backpack, shaking Jeff away when he reaches out to help.

“Annie?”

Fingering the straps once she gets it settled she heaves a weary-sounding sigh. “It’s okay, Jeff. If you’re having second thoughts about coming to Paris, I completely understand. I still have my hostel booking and I assume you can get a refund for the Eurostar. It's not a big deal.”

"If I was having second thoughts I wouldn't be here. I'm here aren't I? And don't think about poking me to make sure."

Her mouth opens and closes soundlessly as she lets her hand fall awkwardly back to her side. “Well, if it’s not that…” She nibbles her lip as she considers. “You know, if you’re really feeling sick you can tell me. Admitting it won’t affect your masculinity or anything.”

“No, it’s…” He splutters a laugh. “Annie, if I was sick I’d be the manliest sick man ever.”

Her lips quirk upwards to smile but then she catches herself, shaking her head rapidly in frustration. “Well then what is it, Jeff? And don’t tell me it’s nothing because you’re being really weird with your weird…face.”

What. Is. It?

Well, now he knows the warmth of Annie’s tiny hand and what it’s like to fall asleep with her tucked close and _He. Likes. It._ He knows that she wriggles and stretches and makes a little high-pitched squeak as she yawns first thing in the morning and it doesn’t make him roll his eyes. Now he knows she’s more devious than anyone realized and that almost turns him on more than her skimpy black-lace bra with the front clasp. Almost. And the more he learns all these things, the more she crawls out from that place he tries so hard not to think about. Because now…now they’re going to Paris, together, and this is something different and real and absolutely fucking terrifying.

He successfully swallows the little bubble of hysteria threatening to burst from his mouth but his heart beats so fast he can barely hear Annie’s meekly whispered, “Jeff?” over the loud incessant _thud thud_ vibrating through his every limb.

“Wait. Wait. _Wait_.” He shakes his head, blinking away the daze. “Back up. Why do you still have your hostel booking?”

Annie’s mouth parts to a little ‘o’ shape like he's just caught her in a lie, and her eyes widen to whites. “Don’t change the subject!”

“Don’t _you_ change the subject.”

She gasps indignantly but her mouth soon snaps shut. “Fine. I just thought in case you wanted – we wanted – some space.”

“Space?” He frowns. “ _Space?_ ”

“Yes, space. Listen Jeff, I know _this_ …” She gestures wildly between them. “Is a little strange, okay.”

“Strange?”

“Are you just going to repeat everything I say?”

“No, I’m just trying to understand why you kept your hostel booking unless…” He swallows down the influx of annoyance burning up his oesophagus. “Look, if you really don’t want to stay with me, Annie, I get it. I just thought we might like to continue what we’re doing but whatever.”

“I do want to continue… _that_. I said yes didn’t I?” Her eyes flash back and forth between Jeff and the train starting to board. “I just, you know, I can’t help who I am Jeff. I like to be prepared for things and if you – we – if _we_ get sick of each other’s company I’ll have somewhere to go. I’m just being practical. Day-planner remember?”

Jeff’s eyes narrow to roam the weak smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “I’ve still got a lot to prove.”

“What.” Her voice is a shred above a whisper. “What do you mean?”

“Nothing. It’s nothing.” He sighs heavily, nodding his head in the direction of the train tracks. “Come on, we’ve got a train to catch.”

“Jeff.” Annie catches the sleeve of his jacket. “Are we okay? I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings. I still want to stay with you, if…if you still want me to.”

The sound of her hesitation tugs hard at his insides and pulls at his feet, and he turns back so sharply that she jumps a little at his unexpected presence in her space. Catching her chin with both hands, his fingers spanning the arch of her neck, he lifts her head up to meet his eyes. He’s pretty sure this is the moment he’s supposed to tell her all those scary thoughts circling his brain, lingering right there on the tip of a tongue that still doesn’t feel like his own.

But he doesn’t.

Instead, he feels Annie swallow thickly beneath his fingertips, her eyes wide and wild as they stare at each other for a few moments, silent except for the distant train announcements muffled with static. His thumb grazes the shiny gloss of her lower lip and he ducks down to kiss her firmly because right now that’s all he can do. As their lips mesh together lazily, Annie’s hand comes to rest softly on top of his as he cradles her jaw. When he pulls away her eyes are still closed, her cheeks tinged pink in a way that makes him think it was the _only_ thing he could do.

Annie finally opens her eyes, blinking once or twice, chin dropping coyly when she sees him already staring at her. She slides her hand into his but there's a caution in the action that annoys him more that it should.

“So. Resolved then?”

Jeff squeezes her hand but he’s not sure who he’s reassuring. “Resolved.”

           

 

~x~

 

 

Three hours later, Annie stands on a quiet Parisian street lined with low trees and bicycles with wicker baskets, and brightly colored Vespas. While Jeff pays the taxi driver, Annie waits with their luggage and looks around. She’s a little frozen at the sight, the gasp still lodged in her throat along with her ability to breathe properly, because the building in front of her is the epitome of everything she’s ever imagined – elaborate patterns engraved into white stone, a sloping gray slate roof and only eight stories high. Every window has a red Dutch canopy flapping lightly above and small wrought iron balconies decorated with terracotta pots filled with red flowers.

“So.” Jeff’s hand settles warm on her lower back. “What do you think?”

“Jeff,” she breathes in awe, hands clasped tight against her chest. “It’s wonderful.”

His smile is triumphant as he picks up her backpack and pops the extendable handle on his suitcase, thrusting it into her hands. Normally she would argue that she’s capable of carrying the bag herself but she's too swept up in the prettiness of everything to care.

The next fifteen minutes are a daze of stilted French and signing forms, and Annie’s so enamored by the curl and sweep of the staircase and the marbled floor polished to a slippery shine, that at one point Jeff has to unzip her purse himself and find her passport for reception to photocopy. She’s still in a complete mental stupor as she numbly follows Jeff into their top floor room, gasping at the sight of the king-sized bed with little gold-wrapped chocolates on the pillows and artfully folded bathrobes, and the French doors leading to a balcony with a table and chairs.

“Jeff.” Her fingers trace the length of the vanity table as she passes it. “How do you know about this place?”

Jeff throws the plastic key card onto the bedside table before picking up the telephone and holding it to his ear, presumably to check for a dialling tone. “My old boss Ted used to come here all the time. It’s the only hotel I knew by name in Paris.” There’s a _ding_ as he re-sets the phone on the cradle.

“But, but there’s a baby grand piano in the lobby.”

“Yeah. So?” He wanders into the bathroom, the sound of his voice echoing off the tiles. “Holy crap there’s a free standing tub in here, Annie. You wouldn’t get that in your hostel.”

She rolls her eyes but chooses not to comment on that little dig. “Sooooo, how much did this place cost?”

“I don’t know, it was in Euro.”

“Okay, so how many Euros? I’ve got an exchange-rate calculator app on my phone.”

“Of course you have.” Jeff shakes his head in that usual mix of amusement and affection as he slouches heavily against the bathroom doorframe. “Seriously Annie, don’t worry about it.”

Her face scrunches uncomfortably because she does worry, a lot. It's kind of her thing. “But _I_ invited _you_ and I don’t like not paying my way.”

“Look, if you feel that bad about it you can buy me dinner.” He wiggles his eyebrows and dives onto the bed, chuckling to himself as he bounces, messing the sheets and perfectly fluffed pillows before stretching out contentedly with both hands beneath his head. “ _Oh yeah_ , that’s what I’m talking about.”

Annie rolls her eyes and steps out onto the balcony, grasping the railing in a white-knuckled grip for fear of floating away because wow _._ In the distance, peeking up into a cloudless sky above a gray sea of sloping roofs, is the latticed point of the Eiffel tower and if she stretches a little she can see the engraved top of the Arc de Triomphe.

Smiling, she inhales a deep satisfied breath through her nose that she feels in the very pit of her lungs, her skin prickly with that same buzz of energy she felt two weeks ago when she discovered that she still had her 4.0 GPA. She never imagined she’d feel so accomplished outside the realm of education, least of all in Paris with a city of possibilities unfolding beneath her. Filled with the scent of gardenias lining the balcony and the heat lingering thick in the air, Annie lets the atmosphere circle her for a moment, the feeling heady and powerful, like she can do anything, like the world really is at her feet.

She’s never understood that saying until now.

Gripping the railing tighter she squeals delightedly as she does a little dance of delirium, bouncing and shimmying her hips side to side. A deep rumbling chuckle drifts out from the inside and Annie spins, startled, to see Jeff stretched out sideways on the bed now, resting on one elbow, his palm flat against his ear. He’s smiling at her in the way that makes her stomach flip, that has her heart thumping in a frantic chorus she should be so used to by now.

She’s tried so hard not to get carried away by moments like these – to be rational and adult – because even though things were clearly different now, she still doesn’t know what they’re doing. But maybe she doesn’t need to, not feeling the way she does right now – with the world at her feet and the wind in her hair and the burn of Jeff’s eyes blazing a path up her body that makes her feel beautiful and alive. She doesn’t need to label their relationship. He’s here and she’s here and that’s all that matters, right?

God, the thought is exhilarating.

She tilts her head to one side, appraising. “What are you laughing at, Winger?”

His grin licks at the corners of his eyes. “You. Getting excited over a view.”

“It’s not just that.” His eyebrows rise and she giggles. “Okay, okay, I like pretty things. Sue me. But I was just.” She sighs and briskly shakes her head. “Never mind. You’ll think I’m silly.”

“Annie. Come on. I think everyone’s silly. It’s who I am.”

"I think," she pauses, still hesitant for a moment. “I think I’ve just realized how much more to life there is than, you know, good grades and -”

“Whoa whoa _whoa_ , who are you and what have you done with Annie Edison?”

“Jeff!” she squawks. “I’m having a moment here.”

He grins. “Sorry, sorry, continue.”

Her lips twist in amusement. “I feel like…like maybe securing my 4.0 GPA isn’t the be all and end all.”

“Says the woman who did a happy dance when she found out she still had her 4.0 GPA.”

“I said maybe, Jeff, _may-be_.” Her eyebrows lift warningly and he chuckles. “My point is in a few years’ time it won’t be the amount of A grades that I’ll remember, it will be this. Right here.” Her hands flick with a flourish at the view behind her. 

“Annie, I didn’t know you were so poetic. That’s beautiful, really.”

She pokes out her tongue. “Make fun of me all you want, I don’t care.”

“Oh, I will. But thanks for your permission.”

Annie twirls in a circle and thrusts her arms up high, playing with the air with her fingertips. “I feel invincible right now, like I can fly or something.”

“Well, I hate to break it to you but you can't, so please step away from the edge.”

Her eyes narrow playfully. “Or what?”

“Or you’ll go splat on the sidewalk below and think of all the views you’ll miss out on. Such a _waste_ , Annie. Such a waste.”

“Hmm. Is that the only reason?”

"I think so." He shrugs but there’s a naughty smile threatening to bloom, like always. “I mean, I guess I’d kind of miss you. Maybe.”

“You’d miss me, huh?”

“I said maybe, Annie. _May-be_.”

“You’re sexy when you lie.”

"Wrong." He smiles wickedly. “I’m always sexy.”

Annie chews on her bottom lip and plays with a smile. The sight of him laid out on the bed, looking at her like she’s _something_ , makes her feel desirable and powerful and the feelings are meshing with her earlier buzz into an intoxicating mix that has her shaking her hair over her shoulders and her fingers snapping to unbutton her shirt.

Jeff’s eyebrows lift in a pleasant sort of surprise. “What are you doing?”

“Undressing.” She pauses at the button beneath her cleavage. “The visual is self-explanatory.”

He huffs out a laugh that sounds a little strangled. “I can see that but I thought the plan was to drop off our luggage and then go see the Eiffel Tower.”

“Plans change, Jeff. Friday was a fine example of that.”

His eyes darken at the reminder.

“Yeah...” He draws out the world slowly as he shuffles to sit up at the edge of the bed, swallowing hard as Annie steps inside, unbuttoning her shirt as she moves, exposing the pale length of her torso and her cleavage barely restrained by the cups of her bra. It's this delicate red lace with a tiny white bow in the center and it's currently his favorite fucking thing in the universe.

She treads closer and nudges his knees with her own until she’s standing between his legs, sliding her palms up his biceps to rest on his shoulders.

“Are you really questioning my impulse to get naked? _Really_ , Jeff?”

He grins mischievously, hands landing on her thighs and clutching a little. “Nope. Not me. Never.”

“We can see the Eiffel tower in an hour or two. I don’t think it’s going to move.”

“Well, that’s a relief.”

She traces a path down the side of his face, teases the little wisps of hair at his temple, smoothing the pad of one finger around the outline of his lips and the small scar there. “Plus, you know, I thought you weren’t bothered about seeing the views.”

“Depends on your definition of a view.”

She follows his eyes directly in line with her cleavage and gasps in faux offence but there's amusement in the sound.

“Hey, just taking in the sights.”

“Yeah?”

“Mmm-hmm.” His neck arched, they watch each other intently as his hands glide slowly up her thighs, following the outer seam of her jeans up and over her hips. Sliding under her shirt to palm the soft curve of her waist, his fingertips rest on the dip of her lower spine. His thumbs swirl against her stomach in a way that has her muscles quivering.

Jeff kisses her torso beneath the laced edge of her bra a couple of times, gently, leaving his lips to linger there for a moment, and just the sight of his hunger-filled eyes peeking up beneath her breasts sends all the blood and heat between her thighs. He peels the shirt from her body, fingers skimming her everywhere, soft yet greedy, his breath hot against her skin.

Annie reaches to unclasp her bra, letting it fall slowly down her arms until Jeff snatches the straps with an impatient growl, tossing it without care as he nuzzles her nipple with the tip of his nose, not once taking his eyes off her face or the way her mouth parts with his every touch. His hands clutch greedily at her ass and Annie slides her fingers through his hair lazily, breath stuttered and uneven as Jeff circles her nipple with his tongue before sucking it fully into his mouth. 

“Oh...” Her head rolls back and she whimpers throatily, breathlessly, as he licks and sucks at her breast.

She sinks into the sensation but the pulse between her thighs soon has her clawing at his t-shirt, tugging it up across his back, and Jeff lifts his arms long enough for Annie to remove it. The air grazes her saliva-slicked breast, tightening her nipple further, and Jeff makes a noise low and deep as he squeezes the weight firmly in one hand, his other popping the button of her jeans. He lowers his mouth for more but Annie fists his hair to tug his mouth up to hers, shifting to straddle his lap as their lips meet in a soft languid kiss. Annie floats into the feel of her bare breasts pressed against his chest and the wet caress of his tongue against hers as his fingers sweep the arch and press of her spine.

Unable to wait any longer, Annie starts a slow mindless roll of her hips, grinding against his erection beneath his jeans, the seam of her own jeans pressing harder, deeper, further into where she wants him most, and Jeff moans into her mouth before rolling them both back onto the bed until he’s half on top of her. Annie clutches at his ass and curls her thigh up against his hip, needing to feel close as they make-out with a laziness they haven’t yet made time for.

Somehow their hands meet like magnets, fingers intertwining between them in a delicate dance before Jeff pulls away to mouth down the smooth skin of her inner arm, kissing the pulse and knit of blue veins of her inner elbow, all the way up to her shoulder where he dusts the skin so softly Annie gasps and giggles at the sensation.

Their gazes clash then and the smile slips from Annie’s face slowly. She can feel every contraction of his ribcage against hers and he’s looking at her again, _god he’s looking at her_ , but there’s something different creeping out from the darkened depths that makes her feel completely and utterly see-through and _oh god…_

“Annie, I -”

“Kiss me, Jeff. Just kiss me.”

His eyes flit rapidly between hers for one heavy moment of silence and Annie’s heart flutters frantically before his mouth crashes against hers and their tongues meet and all is lost.

 

 

~x~

 

 

In the middle of the park that stretches all the way to the Eiffel tower, Jeff studies the huge latticed monument standing proud in the distance, occasionally glinting in the sunlight as it ebbs and flows between drifting white clouds. He pretends to pinch the antenna at the very top as he shuts one eye and the next, playing with its perspective.

“Hey Annie, look, I’m holding the Eiffel tower. Look.”

Camera still poised in the air, she rolls her head in his direction, eyebrows raised dubiously before the seriousness on her face breaks with a giggle. “You sound like you’re five years old right now.”

His hands fall against his thighs with a slap. “Yeah, well, I’m bored.”

“We just got here.”

“Wrong. We got here like twenty minutes ago and we’re still no closer to that thing.” His hand flits aimlessly at the monument stealing everyone’s attention, as if it isn’t just a glorified TV transmitter.

“I need pictures of it, Jeff! This is important.”

He folds his arms loosely around his chest. “World peace is important, Annie. This is…not.”

“Are you really begrudging me picture time when I just spent the last few hours in bed with you?”

He grins delightedly at the memory for a moment and how great Annie felt on top of him, and then under him the second time. “Hey, that was your idea, not that I'm complaining." He mock gasps suddenly. "Wait. Annie. Are you trying to buy my patience for touristy things with sexual favors? I’m so proud.”

Annie rolls her eyes and returns to study her camera but there’s an unmistakable red tinge to her cheeks that wasn't there before. She twists her lips into a slighted little pout and fiddles intently with the camera settings, but when her gaze darts back to his and drifts away immediately, Jeff smirks with great relish at her squirms of embarrassment.

“Shut up!”

“What?” He grins cheekily, delighted. “I didn’t say anything.”

“We’ve already established that you don’t need to, judgey face.”

“Oh, is that the technical term?”

“Coined and minted, baby.” She smiles a little smugly and stuffs her camera back into her purse before threading their fingers together and leading him to the hedge-lined path. “Come on. Allons-y. I want to get to the Eiffel tower before sunset and there might be a line.”

“Ugh.” Jeff tightens his grip, tugging Annie out of the path of a woman power-walking four white poodles, their leashes crossed and tangled. “How long a line are we talking here?”

Annie cranes her neck to watch the dogs toddle past. “I don’t know. I’m not psychic, Jeff. Anyone would think you don’t want to be here.”

“Well, I don’t.” Her gaze snaps back to his, alert and intense. “But you do so...you know.” He shrugs one shoulder, trying to be as cool and natural as possible while he admits how much he's enjoying spending time with Annie, just the two of them.

The smile crawls slowly across Annie’s face and she ushers close, stretching up to press a kiss against his jawline. “Really?”

He actually ducks his heads and feels his cheeks warm, but he doesn’t miss the shred of hope in her voice as he wraps his arm around her shoulder, softly stroking her upper arm. “Really.”

“Aww!” She presses her face into his chest as she tucks herself more firmly under his arm. “You’re a big softie. I’m telling everyone.”

“Uh, no you won’t. They'll never believe you anyway.”

“Hmm. I don't know about that.” Her fingers slip under the hem of his t-shirt to tickle the small strip of warm skin there. “What will you give me to keep me quiet anyway?”

Her voice is so breathlessly flirtatious that Jeff clenches his jaw against the jolt of arousal and quickly starts a count of ten to fight against it. He ducks a little to whisper against her ear, “I can think of lots of things I can give you but I doubt you’ll be quiet for any of them.”

Her fingers brush against his skin as she hooks them tight around his belt and splutters, “Well, that’s…yeah.”

Over two hours later, as Jeff is about to reach his limit of lines and humanity, they finally step out of the small elevator ascending the tower onto the second floor. Overwhelmed by the jostle of sweaty and impatient tourists packed tightly onto the viewing gallery, Jeff lets Annie lead him to a shiny silver telescope peeking out of the protective wire cage. The gust of wind and its hollow whistle hits them instantly and they both take a cooling gasp of relief.

“Oh Jeff, look! It’s amazing.”

Annie bounces excitedly as the breeze plays havoc with her hair, and Jeff is so enamoured by her enthusiasm again that it takes a few minutes to fully comprehend where he is. This morning he woke up in London and now he’s looking at a view that really is distinctly _French_ and he has absolutely no idea why. Stretching out to the horizon is a sea of low-rise stone buildings with gray roofs all set within triangular blocks and lined with trees. The sun sparkles off the Seine River weaving a gray watery thread through the city.

“I feel like I’ve been here before, even though I haven't.”

“Oooh, Twilight zone moment!” Annie drops a few euros into the telescope and peeks into the viewfinder. "Abed's always on about those - something about feeling like we're living in a TV show?"

“Yeah," he says flatly, expression unconvinced. "Because that makes sense." He shrugs distractedly then and steps behind her, hooking his head over her shoulder and Annie giggles as they have a little tug of war with the telescope. She tries to distract him with a kiss to the spot below his ear that she knows he likes but Jeff holds strong and eventually wins with a triumphant _“Ha!”_

He points to the rectangular stretch of green grass lined with precision-cut hedges. “Is that the park we were just in? And by _just_ , I mean fifty billion hours ago.”

Annie rests her head back against his chest. “Technically it’s a field because Champ de Mars means field of Mars. Don’t give me the face, Jeff Winger. So I read travel books before I travel. Whoopdee doo!”

“How long were you sitting on that information?”

“I just thought of it.”

"Liar. I bet you were itching to tell me when we were there."

She shrugs. "You have no way of knowing that, Jeff."

Jeff grins, slides his fingers against her cheek and turns her head up to face him, leaning down to press a quick kiss to her lips.

“What was that for?”

“Are you really questioning my impulse to kiss you? _Really_ , Annie?”

The telescope forgotten, she turns in his embrace, mouth twisting coyly around a blossoming smile as her hands settle low on his back. “Nope. Not me. Never.”

He chuckles, squeezing her tighter, his lips resting lightly against her forehead as she snuggles and sighs contentedly.

“Don’t ever change.”

She pulls back to look at him with a satisfied little grin, the kind she always gets when she completes an assignment or finishes first on a test. “I knew it. You actually like my little facts.”

“No, but you do so just. Just don’t ever change.”

He watches the smile slip from Annie’s face, the undulation of her neck as she swallows, their gaze just as intense as it was when she writhed topless beneath him a few hours ago, and for a minute it doesn’t feel like they’re 320 metres in the air because the world has narrowed to this moment, here, now. His mouth plays around other words, meaningful words that might wash away that tiny shred of wariness he still sees lingering in her eyes sometimes, but they stick and stutter like he’s got a mouth full of cotton balls and _fuck_.

Jeff licks his parched lips as Annie blinks up at him. “Annie?”

Her eyes widen a little as he smoothes the wind-mussed strands at her temple and brushes his thumb back and forth there. “Yes?”

“I think. Are we…” He swallows hard again, all too aware of the pulse thumping in his ears. “Is it my imagination or is this thing moving?”

The little slump of her shoulders is barely perceptible to anyone else but he sees it, he feels it right to his toes, and he hates himself just a little more.

“The tower moves in the wind sometimes.”

“You say that like I’m supposed to know.”

She tilts her head, grazing him with narrowed eyes. “Are you frightened, Jeff?”

His stomach swoops low as he blinks at her, and he knows she's talking about more than heights, more than stupid towers that move in the wind. “Terrified.”

She threads their fingers together tightly, smile so soft it’s almost as if she knows. “Well, it’s a good thing I’m here then.”

He doesn’t think he’s ever agreed with her more.

 

 

~x~

 

 

Later that night in a restaurant on the second floor of the Eiffel tower, Annie watches Jeff across the table, shoulders dusted in soft blue lighting, the lines of his face distorted by the flicker of the candle between them. Outside the window, beyond the latticed frame of the tower currently sparkling with thousands of lights, the streets of Paris are lit like yellow streams of lava. There’s a hustle of unfamiliar accents and the distant tinkering of music, and Annie has to beat down the part of her that’s finding this romantic.

But…

She’s wearing a slinky navy-blue dress and heels and an impulsive slick of red lipstick and she scrunch-dried her hair as wavy and tousled as her insides. Jeff’s mouth dropped open when she twirled out of the bathroom, and he kissed her hand while never taking his eyes from hers and it was a complete surprise when he bought her back here for dinner and _god._

It _is_ romantic.

And even though they’ve shared dinner together every night this past week, it feels very much like a date. Because there was a moment on the Eiffel tower when she thought Jeff was on the brink of telling her something important, something that really mattered, and then they spent the day walking around the streets of Paris, talking and stealing lazy kisses, and by the time they arrived back at their hotel to change for dinner, there was something bubbling between them that was so much more than the desire to rip off each other’s clothes. She didn’t want to see it but it’s as brightly lit and just as blinding as the streets below them.

As the waiter removes their empty plates, Annie uses the interruption to take a steadying sip of wine before resuming their conversation.

“You’re kidding.”

“No,” Jeff chuckles, head shaking in amusement. “Shirley was called Big Cheddar.”

“So that’s why you guys have been so close.” She rests her elbows on the edge of the table, propping her head in her hands. “Who would have thought that you and Shirley would end up best girlfriends?”

“Hey. I object to that.”

“Why? Sounds to me like you do everything girlfriends do together: go to the mall and drink margaritas at lunch. Oooh oooh!” She bounces in her seat, “Does Shirley brush your hair and paint your toenails?”

Jeff tosses his linen napkin onto the table. “No, because I’m not fourteen and I have a penis.”

“It’s okay, Jeff. Your secret past with Shirley is safe with me.”

“Good. She’d beat me with her giant purse if she found out I told you and I’m too fond of my face for that.”

“Why?”

“Annie, please.” He circles his face with his hands. “Just look at me.”

She giggles, shoulders dancing lightly. “No silly. I meant why would Shirley beat you?”

“Well, she’s pretty ashamed about that part of her past and she’d hate if you thought differently about her.”

“I could never think badly of Shirley. We all have pasts we’re ashamed of.”

Jeff pauses from rolling his scotch glass between finger and thumb. “You don’t have anything to be ashamed of, Annie.”

“Oh, sure.” She fiddles with the dessert spoon, briefly watching the end clink against the stem of her glass. “Because a pill addiction just fills me with pride.”

“You know what I mean. I’m just saying I understand _why_ you got addicted. There was a reason, there was pressure. I get it.”

Annie blinks at him for a few moments, with shock or something else, her heart's not sure, because no one ever understood why a bright, young idealistic girl ever developed an addiction to Adderall.

No one.

"Just like I understand that Shirley must have been going through a tough time that made her act the way she did. Not that I excuse her behavior, just so you're aware. But I get it."

His eyes soften as he rests his chin on one fisted hand. “How do you do it?”

She frowns. “How do I do what?”

“You know, keep positive and have faith in people when really, no one would blame you if you were -”

“What, jaded? Angry?”

“Well, yeah. How do you do it?”

“I don’t know. Because I have to, I guess.” She sighs. “Because sometimes it takes more energy to be angry and negative and depressed and what’s the point in that?”

Jeff smiles softly and Annie sees the flicker of hesitation before he reaches across the table to touch her hand. Her temperature soars the instant their fingertips meet, the way it always does, and they both stare at the play of their interlinked hands side to side as the waiters hustle a path back and forth beside them.

It's absolutely, one hundred percent romantic. There's just no denying it now.

Jeff coughs lightly, seeming to gather himself. “Do you remember last week when we were walking along The Mall in London and you said I should, you know, feel free to tell you how amazing you are?”

She swallows hard and nods. “I remember.”

“Well, now is one of those times.”

“Charmer.”

His fingers tighten around hers for just a second. “I’m being serious, Annie.”

His gaze is so direct and dark with intent that she shifts backwards from the force of it, quietly muttering, “I know,” before she reaches out to pat the sleeve of a passing waiter. “Le chèque s'il vous plait?”

Jeff presses forward in his seat, eyes flitting from hers, down to her lips and back again. Annie matches his expression, silently watching, waiting, hoping, and eventually Jeff whispers a low and unwavering, "Want to get out of here?"

“That’s why I asked for the check.”

His elbow hits the table with a _thunk_ and he presses his mouth hard against his clenched fist to bite back a growl and she knows she's testing the limits of his control. “ _Jesus_ Annie. I don’t think. I feel like…I’m not sure you know what you do to me.”

Her pulse flutters madly, mixing with the heady buzz of adrenaline beneath her skin. “You could tell me.”

“I want to, _fuck_ , I really want to. You know that, right?”

She didn't. She really didn't.

“Maybe you could show me then.”

His brow lifts in surprise. “Is that enough?”

It shouldn’t be, after all this time. But it is…

“For now.”

Fifteen minutes later, Annie’s pulled inside their hotel elevator, a little surprised by the dishevelled state of her hair and kiss-bitten lips in the interior mirror. A young couple steps in after them, nodding and smiling as awkwardly as strangers do, and Jeff ushers Annie close against his chest. She palms his backside as she gazes up at him, shivering with need as they ascend each floor in a silence filled with the scent of overpowering perfume.

They all step out on the top floor, heading in opposite directions, and Annie briefly wonders if they’re about to do the same thing, but all these thoughts melt away to nothingness the minute Jeff tugs her inside their room, thrusting her body against the back of the door with a force that has her gasping for breath.

Their lips meet just as frantically as they did in the taxi, when Jeff kissed away her lipstick with a passion she wasn’t aware he had. She moans into his mouth as his hands trail up and under her dress, his fingertips grazing her thighs in soft patterns here and there before he fists the hem and tears his mouth way.

“Lift up your arms.”

She’s a little dazed by his kisses and confused by his request and the way he muttered it almost harshly against her mouth but she complies, shivering as her heated skin meets the wooden door chilled by the air conditioning. Jeff peels the dress over her head, dropping it to the floor as though he’s forgotten it exists; his mouth too busy tracing the arch of her neck with kisses and wet flicks of his tongue. Annie fists his hair to hold him close, loving the breathy heat against her skin, but Jeff growls and takes a step back, his fingers attacking the buttons on his dress-shirt as he watches her slouch breathlessly against the door.

“Take off your panties.”

Annie’s too lost, too mesmerized to do anything but listen, to follow his demands, and she hooks her fingers into the lacy edge of her panties, shimmying them down her legs and kicking them away with an impatient little flick when they get caught around her ankle. Jeff yanks off his shirt but pauses in unbuckling his belt to touch her again, trail his fingers down her sternum to the front clasp of her bra.

She wore it just for him.

Annie swallows hard as he unclasps with forefinger and thumb, and the way they cant stop looking at each other as he peels away the cups and the air grazes and tightens her nipples. She shivers at the delicate way he palms the weight of one breast, caressing the swell, teasing the hardened peak with every sweep and brush of his thumb.

Jeff mouths kisses against her cheek, peppering a path to her ear before whispering hungrily, “I want to show you everything.”

"Yes," Annie moans, fumbling desperately with his belt and zipper now. “Show me.”

She trembles as his palm slides down her stomach and gasps when his fingers sweep softly between her thighs. She nods rapidly at a question he didn't ask, and he presses a little harder, a little deeper in response, and Annie writhes senselessly against his hand, her own hands clutching at nothing but air. Her head rolls back against the door with a _thunk_.

As if he knows her legs are about to give out, Jeff lifts and carries her to the bed, and Annie stretches out languidly, dazedly, sinking into the sheets still tangled from earlier. Consumed by the heat and ache between her thighs as she watches him undress – exposing the dip of his hipbones and carved muscles of his thighs, the desire for her so clear – Annie reaches between her legs, fingers desperate to finish what he started.

“Fuck, _Annie_ ,” he says, sounding wrecked, the words ripped from him as he watches her shift and squirm against her own hand but he said everything and she wants it, she needs it, she’s desperate for it.

“Jeff, touch me, now. Right now.”

She watches the ragged dip of his Adam’s apple as he joins her on the bed. “Open your legs.”

She parts her thighs instantly, too far gone to feel exposed, and bites her lower lip as Jeff maps the flesh of her inner thighs with kisses and fingertips, tracing the crease where pelvis meets torso, and Annie’s hips lift instinctively with every touch closer to where she wants him most. She can feel it, the walk of his fingers, print by print, a slow sweet torment bubbling up inside her, a warm heat spreading through her limbs like honey and _oh oh_ …

She squeaks as he lowers his mouth, gazing up at her between the valley of her breasts, and as his jaw works against her there’s a heat in his eyes that has her thrusting up against his mouth and mewling little stuttered breaths as the coil of pleasure and _need_ and _want_ tightens deliriously in her tummy.

“Oh god.” She slaps and fists the sheets tight, not sure what else to do with her hands. “I can’t…just…oh yes like that, _fuck_ …”

He hums his pleasure throatily and the vibration consumes her, and as she drifts into the endless throb and wave of her orgasm, Jeff works her through it with every slick caress of his tongue until she’s shuddering from the sensitivity. When he finally pulls away, he growls at the sound of her whispered “Jeff” and it’s barely an intake of breath before he’s rolling on a condom, tugging her thighs and entering her hard.

They both cry out at the sensation and Annie wraps herself around him, desperate to feel the heat and hard planes of his body as they slide against her. He kisses frantically, a mèlange of hot breath and scotch and the taste of her arousal that makes her hot and achy with need. She can feel every clench and flex of his muscles as he works inside her, grunting and groaning into her neck, mouthing wet kisses against the flutter of her pulse, whispering words she’s too lost to recognize.

One shift of her hips has him thrusting deeper, harder, hitting the spot that makes her whimper endlessly, head rolling back and forth against the pillow, heart frenetic beneath her breast.

Barely lit by the threads of moonlight playing shadows across their skin, the room fills with the smell of sweat as they move in a rhythm desperate for release, and when Jeff growls, “ _Fuck_ , Annie, come for me,” she does, clenching around him instantly, drawing out his climax as he shudders and shouts above her, against her, inside her until all she feels is _Jeff Jeff Jeff._

They collapse back against the pillows, sweat-slicked and satiated, muscles trembling, their beaten breaths the only sounds along with the whir of the mini-bar refrigerator. Annie slumps and rolls onto her side and Jeff soon follows, his chest pressed damply against her back as he maneuvres her to fit just so.

She sighs contentedly when he sweeps the hair from her shoulder and dusts the bared skin with kisses so soft she could cry. It’s only then in the quiet dark of their hotel room, as he tugs the tangled sheets and smoothes them softly over the outline of her body, weaving their fingers tightly, whispering _“Annie”_ like it’s wrenched from the deepest part of him, that Annie realizes, perhaps, he’s been trying to show her all along.

And if this is the knowledge she was supposed to discover on her adventure overseas, Annie’s certain it was worth every cent.


	8. Chapter 8

Sprawled flat on his stomach, Jeff wakes to the press of Annie’s fingers walking the length of his spine. He sinks further into the pillow with a hum of content as she quietly sketches the contours of his ribcage, the carved musculature of his back. Everything has a sleepy sort of focus when he finally opens his eyes against the daylight to see her stretched out on her side, resting on one elbow, eyes eagerly following the path and pattern of her hand. His pulse quickens as she edges underneath the sheet, sliding over his backside in a soft smooth caress that has his muscles tensing as she works her way back up to his shoulder blades.

His voice is gruff with sleep as he croaks, “Annie.”

“I thought you were asleep!” she shrieks, hand biting the sheet where it rests above her heart.

Jeff rolls onto his side, smiling as Annie buries her face in the pillow. “I tend to wake up when someone’s trying to feel me up.”

He hears a muffled gasp, her wide blues peeking out behind messy strands of hair which she tries to blow out of the way a couple of times without any success. “I wasn’t feeling you up,” she says, giving up with a huff.

“Hmm.” Jeff smoothes away the stray strands obscuring her vision, tucks them behind her ear. “I guess you’re right. If you’re gonna touch my ass you need to do it properly. C’mon, grab it.”

“Shut up!” she laughs.

“Go on, give it a squeeze. You know you want to.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she grins, ushering closer until Jeff can practically taste the brush of her minty breath.

They smile at each other in the morning silence, and Annie’s eyes flit all over his face as though she’s relearning every slope and hollow. Jeff wants to give in to that impulse too, but he's a little disturbed by the swoop and sway of his stomach and the sudden uncertainty over what to do or say next because last night – _fuck_ – last night something happened between them and he’s not even sure _what_ but it’s enough to wonder whether Annie’s pulse is racing as fast as his, whether she too senses the change lingering in the air.

“Morning,” he settles on, and it's pretty much all he can manage right now.

Annie flushes a little, nuzzling his nose softly with her own and pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth. “Good morning.”

Jeff swallows thickly, completely unused to such gentleness from, well, anyone. “So…”

“So…”

“What are we doing today and does it involve drinking?”

“Of course. I know how much you need your coffee in the mornings, grumpy.”

“Ha ha, you’re hilarious. I meant the good stuff, Annie.” His voice lowers to a growl, “Liquor.”

Her face scrunches distastefully. “Again, you kind of sound like Leonard when you say that.”

“ _Aaaaand_ morning boner effectively ruined. I’m getting up.” He rolls out of bed, stretching his arms and rotating his shoulders, yawning loudly as he works the sleep from his limbs.

“Good! You take so long in the shower that we need an early start if we ever plan to leave this room before lunch.”

“Objection.” He grabs his briefs from the floor and tugs them on with a snap of elastic low against his hips. “Your argument is invalid.”

“How so?”

“We’ve shared every shower this week, remember?”

Annie's mouth tilts wickedly as she runs her hand across the mess of sheets beneath her. “Hmm. I’ll allow it.”

Jeff grins and heads for the bathroom, pausing when he notices last night’s dress-shirt neatly re-buttoned on a hanger on the closet door. He turns to Annie just as she sits on the edge of the bed, and uses the moment to admire her naked curves so pale in the daylight; the delicate bumps of her spine, the fleshy cheeks of her ass squished against the mattress. He pouts a little childishly as she threads her arms through one of the white bathrobes.

“When did you hang up my shirt?”

“Uh…” She lurches to her feet, tightening the robe around her waist. “When I got up to use the bathroom in the middle of the night. Why?”

His mouth quirks at that and he fingers the cuffs, straightens the collar slightly. “Nothing. Just. Thanks.”

“You’re welcome. Did you see I even put it on one of the wooden hangers?”

He grins as he meets her at the foot of the bed, the towelling of the bathrobe soft beneath his fingertips as he tugs on the collar to lift her closer to his mouth. “You’re never going to forget the jacket thing are you?”

“How could I? It was a very sweet gesture for the ten seconds I wore it.”

“It was more like thirty seconds and you were bending the elbows!”

She smiles, soft and knowing, settles her hands low on his hips. “It’s okay, Jeff. Now I know to bring my own jacket if we go out and it’s cold. It’s a good thing I like to be prepared.”

“Yeah, you’re a regular Girl Scout.”

Annie’s brow lifts in amusement and they watch each other wordlessly for a long moment before they break into laughter at the ridiculousness of it all. When the noise of it ebbs away, her eyes dart rapidly between his and she bounces a little on tiptoe, biting her lower lip in the best way as she smoothes a fingertip down the side of his face like she just can't contain her affection for him. Jeff flinches in surprise at the tenderness and tightens his grip on her collar, kissing away whatever she was about say.

Their mouths clash pretty roughly at first and Annie whimpers low, clutching at his shoulders desperately as she sinks into him, their make-out dissolving into an unhurried deliberate sort of dance, lips soft and searching, hands stroking tugging pinching at paths of skin. Jeff groans, distantly aware he could get used to waking up to this – that _holy shit_  he _wants_ to get used to it – and he loosens the knot of her robe, barely sliding his fingers against the sliver of exposed firm flesh when a sharp knock sounds at the door.

He wrenches his mouth away with a huff. “Who the hell is that?”

“Oh!” Annie flaps and flusters as she rushes to retie the robe. “I ordered breakfast.”

Jeff wanders to the small entryway, wrenching open the door to a tall, floppy-haired blonde in the hallway, smartly dressed in a waistcoat and tie and holding a wooden tray. The steam of the coffee press wafts between them as Jeff barks, “What?”

“Jeff!” Annie snaps, turning to smile apologetically at the man watching them – his expression dancing the line of disinterest. “Je suis désolé. Um… Il n'est pas une personne du matin. Uh, petit déjeuner… sur le balcon?”

The man nods efficiently and wanders into their room with the rich scent of coffee and warm bread, discreetly stepping over their clothes still scattered on the floor from last night. The china clinks a path all the way out to the balcony just as Annie spots her panties with an embarrassed squeak, quickly plucking them from the floor and stuffing them into the pocket of her robe.

“What did you say to him?”

She's still a little breathless and scattered as she answers, her attention elsewhere. “Oh, I apologized and told him you weren’t a morning person, at least I think that’s what I said.”

“Like I’m gonna be all sunshine and smiles at 6am after being cockblocked by some random French dude named Jean-Pierre.”

“Cockblocked?” Annie folds her arms sharply, eyeing him cynically now, though Jeff can see the amusement sparkling there. Thankfully. “What makes you think I was going to have sex with you?”

He scoffs and gestures at his own body. “Please.”

Her chin juts in challenge as she steps a little closer. “You think you’re so sexy and irresistible don’t you?”

“I don’t think I’m sexy. I know I am. As for irresistible, well.” He grins, as cheeky and smug as he's ever been. “That goes without saying.”

"You arrogant son of a -"

“Monsieur, Madame. Will there be anything else?” Annie startles with a gasp and Jeff’s brow wrinkles as they turn in unison to the man nodding smugly, his accent heavy but clear. “Yes, I speak English. And my name is François.”

“Good for you. Bye now. Merci bien!” Jeff ushers him out into the hallway, slamming the door in his face and dusting his hands together satisfactorily, muttering “ _Cockblocker_ ” under his breath as he re-joins Annie by the bed. “What’s wrong?”

“That is the second person we’ve encountered in a hotel who knew we were…” Annie blinks at the door vacantly, gesturing vaguely in the direction of the bed. “My sex life has never been so... public.”

“A-ha!” Jeff shouts, pointing at her firmly. “Inadmissible evidence, right there. We would so be having sex right now if Jean-Pierre whatshisname hadn’t interrupted us. Admit it.”

“It’s François actually and now I guess you’ll never know.” She tightens the bathrobe belt with a resolute tug, throwing him a smug smile as she strolls towards the balcony.

“Okay, Annie," he smirks. "I believe you.”

“Was that you being sarcastic again?” she calls out over her shoulder. “I’m immune to it now.”

Jeff stands there for a moment, grinning wide at the open French doors, watching the breeze drift and dance with the curtains gauzy and pale, listening to Annie clap excitedly over their breakfast, feeling lighter than he has in months. Probably longer if he really thinks about it. He wonders if showing Annie how he feels about her results in _this_ – this kind of fluttery happy feeling pooling low in his belly – well, maybe telling her wouldn’t be so bad.

He chuckles to himself and wanders outside and it’s early enough that the sky is still dusted pastel pink and yellow and the dawn hasn’t yet reached the streets, making everything on the balcony seem kind of gray and still.

Annie’s wearing the kind of muted smile people get when they think no one is looking and plucks the single-stemmed purple flower from a tiny vase on the tray, brushing the petals against her nose. Jeff’s heart thunders violently against his ribcage and _holy crap_ he needs to rein it in a little because seriously, she’s not even naked.

When Annie finally notices him, she flicks her hands with a grand flourish at the coffee press, bowls of fruit and basket of croissants now neatly laid out on the table. “ _Ta-da!_ ”

Jeff’s top lip rolls in disgust as he sinks weightily into a seat. “What. Is. That?”

“What does it look like?”

“Carbs overload.”

“Oh, and this hotel doesn’t have a gym so no running 5k for you.” She drops sideways into his lap like she owns it, curling one arm around his neck and smoothing a palm across his pecs which he instinctively flexes a little. “Poor baby.”

A shiver rolls through him at the feel of her breath against his ear, and he trails his hand under the bathrobe to stroke the length of her thigh because he likes the little shudder she makes when he does. “You’re mocking me?”

“Moi? Never.”

“Lies.” Jeff’s hands slide to her waist where he tickles her until she shrieks and squirms giddily on his lap.

“No, no, stop, Jeff, stop,” she laughs heartily. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry!”

“So ticklish,” he grins, bringing his fingers to a halt and pinching her waist.

A little flustered and breathless, Annie elbows his stomach. “Jerk.”

“Play nice or I’ll do it again.”

“ _Fine_.”

She pouts sullenly and Jeff watches her with raised brows until her face breaks into a cheeky smile and his does too. Annie kisses his temple and rests her forehead against his and they both take a contented breath, watching each other slightly cross-eyed.

Jeff can hear the _thud thud_ of his heart in his throat.

After a minute Annie suddenly pulls back, coughing a little raggedly, and reaches for a croissant, biting off a chunk with relish, mouthing “Mmm” around the grind of her jaw.

He grins. “Enjoying that?”

“Mmm-hmm,” she nods, tearing off another portion, uncaring of the flakes sprinkling her lap. “Here.”

“No.”

“But it’s yummy!” she sing-songs.

Jeff twists his head this way and that to dodge the pastry and its buttery scent, mumbling amusedly when Annie forcefully stuffs it into his mouth with a victorious, _“Ha!”_

“Stop doing that,” he murmurs, hitting her in the face with a splutter of crumbs.

“Ugh, gross. Say it, don’t spray it.”

“Sorry.” He chuckles and chews, brushing his palm against her face and neck and the collar of her robe where the flecks of pastry are caught in the towelling. “Seriously though Annie, you’ve gotta stop shoving food in my mouth. I have abs to maintain.”

“I’ve only done it twice and they look pretty well maintained to me,” she beams, briefly patting his abdomen before reaching for one of the china bowls. “What about some fruit? That’s good for you.”

His eyebrows rise amusedly as she traces the tip of a strawberry around his lips, her eyes following its path.

“Okay but you know I can feed myself, right?”

“Yes,” she grins, almost wickedly, but her fingertips hover gently against his lips while he chews.

 

 

~x~

 

 

Unsurprisingly, it’s already midday when Annie and Jeff eventually make their way from the Metro station on the Rue de Rivoli to the Louvre museum. As they walk across the stone courtyard to the entrance, Annie’s distracted by the giant criss-crossed steel and glass pyramid poking up through the ground. She watches the glass reflect the pattern and movement of the clouds rolling above as it glints in the sunlight.

Sighing contentedly, feeling relaxed and happy and strangely accomplished – she’s about to check number four off her list – she steals a glance at Jeff standing so close she feels his every breath; his strong hand clasped tightly around hers in a way that sends a shiver right down to her toes at how big he is, how masculine.

Sometimes she can't believe he's here with her, like this.

Jeff must sense her staring as his head tilts in her direction. Annie can’t see his eyes behind the darkened lens of his sunglasses but his mouth quirks upwards and when he squeezes her hand and brings it to his mouth, kissing it softly with a lingering smudge of his lips and his breath, her heart scores an almost violent beat.

Well. _That’s_ new.

“Ow, Annie, _ow_.” Jeff snatches his hand away. “Don’t mind me. I just like circulation in my fingers.”

She swallows thickly, everything sort of caught in her throat as she watches Jeff repeatedly clench and unclench his fist. “Oh, sorry! I’m just… excited. Yay!” She claps a little too enthusiastically and wonders if she's overselling it.

“O-kay.” Jeff frowns bemusedly but thankfully shifts his attention to their surroundings, shrugging it off. “You know, I have to hand it to you for distracting me from finding out where we were going today.” There’s a slight weighty pause and his mouth drops in slow realization. “You purposely didn’t tell me.”

“I wanted to surprise you. Surprise?” she asks with a knowing wince, and when Jeff raises his brow dubiously in response, she slumps with a sigh. “Would it have made a difference if you’d known?”

“No, if anything you gave me a few hours of blissful ignorance but ugh, it’s a museum, Annie. I hate museums.” His sneakers scuff the stone weakly, childishly. “I hate them.”

“I know, I know.” She pats his forearm in the same way she does with Troy sometimes, a consoling ' _there, there, hush now, don't cry'_ while trying to bite down a smile. “I still have your museum rant from last week recorded on my phone.”

Jeff grins wide, folding arms loosely across his chest. “You recorded that? Now who’s the crafty jack-rabbit?”

“I had to! It was an epic Winger speech that the whole group deserves to hear, well, maybe not _deserves_ but I am not going to be the only person who had to endure it. I'm going to spread that misery around. You know it loves company, Jeff.”

He laughs. “You know, it’s a good thing you’re hot and really good with your hands.”

Annie flushes a little at his compliment. “Because that’s all I’m good for.” She doesn't phrase it as a question even though suddenly she really wants an answer, a little nervous at what that answer could be.

“Well…” His mouth turns into a downward sort of smile as he considers. “There are lots of other things but I wouldn’t want to inflate your ego. Gotta keep that thing in check, Annie.”

“Hello Pot, meet Kettle.” She swats at his chest and Jeff chuckles as she struggles to push him towards the crowd weaving a lengthy path around the triangular shaped ponds framed either side of the pyramid. “Just shut up and join the line, smart-ass.”

“Yaaaaay.” He rattles his fist half-heartedly. “Long lines. Tourists. Museums. I think I just maxed out my excitement levels. Can you tell?”

“Oh, I’m sorry. You’ve just reached your sarcasm limit and you’re not allowed to use it for the rest of the day.”

Jeff laughs heartedly, the sound tugging harder at the smile she was already failing to hide. He throws his arm over her shoulder just as they reach the end of the line and Annie wriggles to protest but she can’t help the fluster she feels whenever he touches her, and it’s reflexive when she turns into him, chest against chest. As his thumb smoothes the skin around the thin strap of her sundress, Annie presses her ear to the thud of his heart, biting her lip when it beats harder, faster, at the scrape of her fingertips low against his spine. She inhales the strong musky scent of him and closes her eyes.

An hour later, armed with Annie’s pre-printed visitor trail of all the ‘important’ Masterpieces, they wander into a huge room on the ground floor with brown marbled walls and arched ceilings lit by scattered spotlights. The room is frozen by an eerie stillness, filled with Greek and Roman statues; the white marble steeped in angled shadows and pitted by thousands of years of weather.

Annie studies the paper in her hands before scanning the room, gasping triumphantly when she spots the armless statue from the picture perched high on a platform. Fumbling for her camera inside her purse, she runs over, elbowing her way through her fellow tourists to get the best shot.

Once she’s taken a couple of frames from every angle, and has pretty much been insulted in every language – admittedly she's kind of ruthless and her elbows are quite sharp – she bounces back to where Jeff is slouched against the wall, arms folded loosely, one foot propped behind the other. He's grazing her from top to toe with a smile full of such unfettered affection that her heart feels like it might burst if that was possible, and the feeling is so new and different and startling that she doesn’t quite know what to do with herself.

She fingers her hair nervously instead. “What?”

“I don’t get this obsession with taking so many pictures of things when we all know they’ll just stay on your camera for the next five years. What’s the point?”

Annie rolls her eyes followed by a shake of her head, hoping the movement disturbs the unease starting to grow and linger. She loops her camera around her wrist as they snake a path between the statues and ivory-colored busts. “I don’t know, Jeff. Why do we do anything?”

“Oh, well, now there’s a question.”

“You know, this explains why there are no photographs in your locker or your apartment.”

“Not really.” He ducks a little, squinting closely at a marbled bust set on a low plinth, although she can tell he's not really that interested. “I’m not used to having photographs anywhere. It's not who I am.”

“Why not?”

“I don't know. I mean, my mom cut out my Dad’s face from all the family photographs the week after he left and then shoved everything in a box somewhere. I never saw them again. I guess it’s just something I got used to.”

“Oh.” Her heart sinks a little as she tugs gently at the sleeve of his shirt. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. It's not the end of the world.” He shrugs, nudging her arm with his elbow. “And I do have one photo of the study group at our first Halloween. That counts, right?”

“Mmm. True. And _why_ do you have that photo?”

Jeff frowns a little. “You gave it to me.”

Her forehead crinkles in surprise and the warmth unfurls deep in her chest. “It’s the one I gave to you?” she asks, trying not to sound awed and emotional about it.

“Well, technically you slid it into my Spanish textbook when I wasn’t looking and it kind of just fell out in my apartment.”

“That’s because you wouldn’t take it when I offered it to you.”

“And now you know why.”

She shakes her head amusedly at his roguish little grin. “Okay, so why didn’t you just throw it in a kitchen drawer or something?”

“I don’t know. Because. Because it’s a nice picture and I guess it makes me smile when I walk past it and yeah, okay, I see the point you’re making.” He dips to whisper, breath brushing her ear, “Nicely played, Edison. Nicely played.”

“Thanks,” she grins proudly, tilting her head into the kiss he places against her cheek.

“Still doesn’t explain why you need fifty photos of a creepy armless statue but whatever.”

Annie gasps. “That _creepy armless statue_ is Venus de Milo.” He gazes down at her vacantly. “Aphrodite? Goddess of love and beauty? Yeah, I didn’t know much about it either but it’s on the list.”

His brow lifts in amusement as they wind through the rapidly growing crowd. “And you need a picture from every angle _because…_?”

“Because it’s a reminder that I’ve been here, of everything I’ve seen.”

“Wow, memory fading already?”

“Ha Ha. Very funny.”

They wander out into the hallway, footsteps tapping faintly against the marbled floor, the air kind of still and soundless, and Annie turns in a circle, slow, distracted by the painted ceiling engraved and embellished gold and the way it catches the light.

Jeff glances at the ceiling and nods slowly, appreciatively, for just a moment. “You realize you spent more time taking pictures of Aphrodite whatsherface than you did actually looking at it.”

“Did I?”

“Yep.”

She tilts her head to consider. “I guess at some point the memory of certain places and people will fade and these pictures will help me remember.”

“Well, that’s just depressing.”

“No it’s not! It’s called being practical. I’m documenting moments I don’t ever want to forget. Everyone does it.”

“What, on the off chance that you someday might forget and need reminding?” He pauses, briefly. “Yep. Still depressing.”

“Oh, I see.” Her spine straightens as she gears up to argue her defense, shifting her purse strap higher on her shoulder. “You’re going to need a visual presentation.”

His eyes widen. “No, no. I’m really not.”

Annie twists her lips, watching him haughtily before purposely scrolling through the photographs on her camera, the periodic beep loud in the quiet gallery. “ _For example,_ ” she says pointedly, ignoring Jeff’s mumbled, “Oh god,” she continues, “There was a moment on top of the Eiffel tower when you made a funny face and…” She stops and giggles. “Just look.”

Squinting at the small screen Jeff makes a noise of disgust in the back of his throat. “ _Aaaaand_ delete.”

“No!” Annie clutches the camera protectively against her chest.

“Annie,” he whines. “I look like a complete tool.”

“Maybe you do. So what? It’s silly and fun and I like it. I want to remember you like this.”

“Why?” He leans forward a little. “Am I dying?”

“I just," she shrugs, not quite sure how to explain. "You don’t act silly very often and I want a memento of it happening.”

“Hey, I act silly.” He pauses, frowning bemusedly into the distance. “Wait. Why am I admitting this?”

“Name one instance.”

“Uh, I nearly destroyed our study room table with an axe.”

“Please, that was induced by monkey gas and was more scary than silly. Which reminds me, never do that again.”

“O-kay.” His brow furrows in thought and it’s a full minute before he clicks and points his fingers, his eyes growing wide. “I let you paint my nails black when I had to play Ricky Nightshade and, oh wait, _I_ _played Ricky Nightshade_. I wore a wig and leather pants, Annie. _Leather. Pants_.”

Annie giggles. “That’s the best you came up with? That’s not being silly. You only did that because you had to, not because you were caught in the moment.”

“Oh okay, Queen of Living in the Moment, tell me. What number of your list are we crossing off today? Because nothing says being ‘silly’ more than following a pre-planned list.”

“Four," she says sheepishly. "Not that it’s listed on a scale of importance. Anyway, you’re missing the point. I’m not criticizing how you choose to be. I’m the same, Jeff. I never act silly for the sake of acting silly. And _that’s_ the reason I want to cherish and capture the moments we do.” Her gaze slides down to the camera and she traces a fingertip gently across the picture still frozen on the screen, unable to stop the smile dancing across her lips. “I like this picture because for the first time ever you weren’t posing or worried about what you looked like. You look so carefree and happy. It’s lovely.”

She glances up, the smile slowly melting from her face as Jeff watches her with the most genuine, vulnerable expression she’s ever seen – the kind that crawls down her throat and tightens her oesophagus with its intensity. Her stomach lurches like it’s lost its anchor and is full of air, floating up inside her as he steps close, trailing his fingertips down the length of her arm and catching her elbow to draw her closer, lowering his voice just a fraction.

“No, you are.”

Annie stifles a gasp at his words, so unlike him, though her cheeks warm instantly. Her heart leaps and tumbles and her lungs are tight and her breath lodges thickly in her throat and she can’t breathe, she just cannot breathe. She’s unsure what this feeling means, which bothers her more than it should, but to figure it out she needs time alone with her journal and her thoughts and for Jeff Winger to not be staring at her like that, and she just doesn’t have any of those things.

She's not sure she even wants them.

Ducking her chin, she takes a quick reassuring breath and tucks her hair behind one ear. "Lovely enough to let me keep this picture?"

Huffing out a laugh at the animated widening flutter of her eyes, there’s a heavy pause before he gives in with a resigned sigh. “Ugh, fine. Whatever. Just. Please don’t show it to anyone else.”

“It’s just for me. I promise.”

“Just for you, huh?” Jeff grins, catching her hand to twine their fingers. “Do I get an Annie picture that’s just for me?”

Annie is momentarily bewitched by their joined hands swaying in a soft dance side to side, like it’s a normal everyday thing to do, like she holds hands with Jeff Winger all the time, and she has to swallow down the gasp clawing desperately up inside her.

“Only if…if you really want one.” She fingers the strap of her sundress, inwardly impressed that she’s not trembling, that she’s holding herself together even though every part of her suddenly feels like glue and he’s the sun and _god_ she’s melting apart.

_She’s supposed to be a Girl Scout. She’s supposed to be prepared for things like this._

“Will you be wearing that?”

She shrugs, hoping the gesture is casual enough to hide the growing discomposure knotting her insides. “Not if you don’t want me to.”

Eyes wide, Jeff’s clears his throat a little unevenly. “Right. Yeah, that’s… _Jesus_ Annie. You really know how to pick your moments.”

She swallows thickly now. “I know.”


	9. Chapter 9

The stifling heat of the day dims to a shade more bearable when Jeff and Annie sit in the outside terrace café overlooking the Louvre pyramid and the tree-lined edge of the Tuileries gardens. Despite the jumble of accents around them and the distant gush and babble of water from the fountains below, things between them are decidedly quiet.

Too quiet.

It’s a little disconcerting, especially since Annie hasn’t stopped talking about everything there ever was from the moment Jeff met her in London, and probably before that, if he's honest. But somewhere between Greek Antiquities and the Decorative Arts, Annie acquired this weird silence like a cheap, crappy souvenir Jeff really doesn’t want and now he can’t get rid of.

At first he welcomed it as they meandered from painting to sculpture to painting, needing the time to think about the moment Annie gazed down at his stupid picture on her camera, and the way she stroked it so, well, lovingly, for want of a better word, and how the warmth it stirred spread until he had to restrain that unyielding impulse to catch her face with his hands and kiss her and tell her just how good she made him feel. Because when has anyone ever looked at him like that – like he was more than just a handsome face?

He assumed Annie sensed his need to think for a while - she's usually pretty good at deciphering his moods and acts accordingly - and they’d eventually pick up where they left off, but aside from a few mumbles about the Mona Lisa and some painting they only recognized as the cover art of a Coldplay album, Annie was practically mute.

And now, now the silence is persisting and edging into the kind of awkward Jeff can feel in his fingertips as they rap harshly against the table and he can’t think what happened in the last few hours that made it that way.

It doesn't make any sense.

Hooking his sunglasses into the collar of his t-shirt, Jeff watches Annie take a sip of coffee, barely meeting his eye before she turns to stare vacantly across the balcony lined with tall graying statues, their features eroded to near nothingness. He waits for her to say something, anything, because this is usually the part where Annie points out something in the distance and then Jeff makes some sarcastic comment about how little he cares but they're smiling, always smiling. It's kind of their thing.

Now there's nothing.

“Okay, that’s it,” he says, his palm landing heavily on the table, enough to make their cups clatter. “This weird silent thing you’ve got going on really isn’t working for me.”

Annie’s gaze bites to his confusedly. “Huh?”

“Oh look. She speaks. _That’s_ a relief.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Am I boring you?”

“What?” Her spine snaps upright. “Of course not.”

“I can’t believe I even asked that," he says to himself. "As if anyone would find me boring.”

Annie’s eyes dart dazedly between his face and their surroundings, like maybe she missed something and is trying desperately to catch up, and he knows he's confusing the hell out of her when she says, “Um. Jeff…?”

“Is this about the Mona Lisa? It’s not really anything to get upset about Annie, but even I didn’t expect it to be the same size as my hand.”

The hard line of Annie’s lips finally breaks and the smile bleeds into her face. “Okay, Hyperbolic Henry. It wasn’t _that_ bad.” She pauses to think about it and Jeff grins, feeling a shred of relief at the sound of her teasing. “Although, admittedly, it was a little disappointing after all the build up about how amazing it is, I’m not upset about that.”

“But you’re upset about something?”

“What? No." She hisses a noise that vaguely sounds like a _pssshhh_. "No.”

“So that’s a no then?”

Her shoulders actually sag. “Jeff.”

“Hey, look. I’m just trying to lighten the mood here because something’s clearly bothering you.”

Annie’s fingers dash to play with the hair curled behind her ear. “What, what makes you say that?”

“Well, Annie, as we established on our first day together, you are the world’s most excitable tour guide.” He pauses, encouraged by the small smile flirting with her lips. “This means that you like to take photos of everything, from streetlamps -”

“It had Victorian detail!”

“-to sidewalks-”

“It was cobbled and in London it’s called a pavement.”

“-you even took a picture of our feet.”

“They just looked really funny standing together. You have huge feet and mine are tiny.”

“Whatever. We talked about this earlier. You like to take a lot of photos. Agreed?” She nods slowly, not quite following, and he continues, “And you also like to describe everything you’re seeing even though I’m seeing it too. I mean, I’m not blind Annie, although if you keep catching me off-guard with your camera flash I might be.”

“Travelling is nothing without commentary, Jeff, and I said I was sorry about that.” She winces apologetically. “I still don’t know all the settings on my camera. I'm learning as I go along.”

“My retinas forgive you,” he grins, shifting to rest one elbow on the table, propping his cheek against his fist. “So here’s the thing. When you don’t take hundreds of photographs or tell me the history of everything there ever was, I know something’s wrong. And _something_ is wrong. I know you.”

Annie’s hand drops to toy with her necklace, absentmindedly flicking at the heart-shaped locket nestled against her collarbone, and Jeff doesn’t miss the roll of her neck as she swallows.

“Nothing’s wrong. I’m fine. Everything’s fine,” she says, although it sounds like she's trying to reassure herself more than anything.

“See, when people say they’re fine, it usually means they’re not.” When her brow arches disbelievingly, Jeff angles his head to one side, more than a little haughtily because he shouldn't need to explain himself here. His skills really speak for themselves. “I’m a lawyer, Annie, I know these things. Is this because I wouldn’t let you climb on my back?”

“No,” she sighs. “Although that was kind of mean, Jeff. You know how small I am. It would have helped me see the painting above the crowd.”

“Yeaaahhh but also your hands would’ve been all scrunched up in my shirt and this is Ralph Lauren,” he quips, brushing delicately at the material against his shoulder. “And I’m not a tree. You can’t climb me like one. At least not in public.”

She whisper-shouts his name like it's some kind of scandal.

“Okay, okay, we can do it in public if you want.” He arches one eyebrow suggestively. “I vote the elevator.”

“What is this, Grey’s Anatomy? And stop that!” She kicks him lightly under the table and glances sideways before leaning forward to whisper, eyes wide and asserting. “There are children present.”

Jeff squints at the chubby-cheeked baby strapped in a stroller beside the next table, his lip coiling in disgust at the line of drool oozing from his toothless mouth as he chews on a brightly colored plastic ring. “Yeah, I don’t think the kid understands what we’re talking about, Annie.” He eyes the parents chatting speedily in an accent his brain can’t be bothered to process. “Same probably goes for the parents. What language _is_ that?”

She follows the direction of his gaze, head poking to the side as she listens. “Polish maybe? I don’t know.”

“And here I thought you knew everything.”

"You'd think, wouldn't you?" Annie splutters a laugh tinged with awkwardness as she shakes her head and doesn't stop. “But nooooo, no, no. Not me, no _sir_.”

"Uh." Jeff frowns. “What?”

Her eyes meet his wide and wild. “What?”

“Okay, what’s going on?”

“Nothing,” she shrugs dismissively. “I’m just thinking. About things. And stuff. Stuff and things.”

“Ah.” He nods in slow understanding. “You’re in one of those philosophical moods again.”

“Would, would that be such a bad thing?”

“No,” he murmurs, stretching the word slowly, confused and a bit cautious now. “I meant what I said, Annie. I’m just trying to lighten the mood because you’ve been weirdly quiet for hours now and it’s kinda reminding me of that day you ignored my texts and I gotta say,  _that_ was tedious.”

“Yeah, well, you deserved it,” she snaps.

Jeff blinks at her, the clink of cutlery from neighboring tables filling the beats heavy with silence.

“Maybe. But do I deserve this, right now?”

“No. I’m sorry,” she sighs around a watery smile and grabs one of the paper napkins, twisting it between her fingers. “Can’t a girl just have some time to think about things?”

“And stuff,” he smirks. “Don’t forget the stuff, Annie.”

Her brow furrows, only slightly, but Jeff feels like he knows every line, every smooth expanse of her skin, and the change in her face plays uncomfortably in the pit of his stomach. If he had a Spidey sense, it would _so_ be tingling right now.

“Do you,” he starts hesitantly. “Do you want to be left alone? Is that what this is about?”

“No. That’s the thing.” Annie watches the pick of her fingers against the dried murky-colored milk foam around the rim of her cup, the twisted napkin abandoned now. “Even though I came on this trip by myself I never really wanted to be on my own, not once.” She breathes a laugh that plays bitter with the sound. “Isn’t that ridiculous?”

Jeff frowns again, feeling like he's done nothing but. “No, it’s not.”

“I think…Maybe I just need some fresh air, you know, clear my head.”

“Uh Annie, this stuff all around us is air and I’m pretty sure it’s fresh, although from the look of concentration on that kid’s face,” he thumbs discreetly at the baby in the stroller. “It probably won’t be for long.”

Annie glances at the baby, scrunching her nose a little. “Do you want to get out of here?”

Jeff watches her for a moment, follows the agitated sweep of her fingertips across the bare expanse of her throat. With his usual assuredness he knows Annie’s holding something back from him and the fact irritates more than it should. Still, this is Annie and he would do anything for her and it’s that thought which has him pushing his chair away from the table.

He holds out his hand, ignoring the cautious way she slides her palm against his, instead relishing the warmth he’s missed the last few hours, as crazy as that sounds.

“I know exactly where to go.”

 

 

~x~

 

 

Annie follows Jeff’s lengthy strides across from the Louvre to the line of trees framing the embankment of the Seine River, vaguely aware that for the first time since she left Colorado she has no idea where she’s going. It’s a short walk driven by the same lingering silence that she can only blame herself for, but the franticness of that thought fades as soon as she catches a glimpse of their destination.

She glances at Jeff, his smile verging on smug as he holds up his phone, muttering “Map app” in answer to a question she's pretty sure she never asked.

Arched over to the left bank of the Seine, the criss-crossed wire fence of the Ponts des Arts bridge is covered in padlocks of different colors and sizes, some with colored ribbons curling in the river breeze. They wander to the middle, settling beside one of the streetlamps; the glass shell of the light above a little crooked. Behind them the wooden slats are littered with families on blankets with picnics of food and drink, and somewhere, someone is playing an instrument Annie can’t name but would like to murder if she had the chance.

“So,” Jeff starts casually. “This air fresh enough for you?”

Annie nods, inhaling deeply, the crispness tickling the back of her nose makes her cough a little. “How did you know this was here?”

“You wanted to come here, didn’t you?”

“Yes, but I never -”

“I heard some couple talking about it earlier.” He shrugs. “I thought you’d like it.”

“I do,” she murmurs quietly, gripping the railing tightly in effort to dull the tingling rush of her pulse in her fingertips. “Thanks.”

Their smiles hold long enough for Jeff’s eyes to soften and fall to her lips as the flush climbs her cheeks, and Annie wonders why she ever thought fresh air would dampen the feeling burning inside her. It feels etched into her chest somehow, like it will always be there, and it's more than a little terrifying. She turns back to look at the sun in its slow descent to the horizon and the line of boats bobbing beside the embankment.

“What’s with all the padlocks?”

Jeff’s voice cuts sharply through her thoughts and she turns to him with eyes narrowed warily.

He grins. “Hey, look, no judgey face. I really want to know.”

“They’re cadenas d’amour,” she smiles, the words curling around her tongue with their usual exuberance. “Love padlocks. Couples write their names and a special date on the padlock, fix it to the fence and throw the key into the river.”

“Why?”

Annie shrugs. “It’s romantic I guess.”

“Hmm. Like, we’ll always have Paris.”

"What." She turns to him in surprise. "When did you watch  _Casablanca_?"

"I'm pretty sure everyone has seen it, Annie. It's supposedly a classic."

"Oh, I know that. It just doesn't seem like something in your wheelhouse."

"I watched a lot of movies growing up. The TV was a friend of mine. And sometimes a parent." He shrugs, like it's no big deal, even though Annie knows it's the opposite. "But don't you remember when Abed made us watch the movies from the AFI's list of movie quotes?"

“Oh yeah,” she smiles warmly at the memory of the group piling into Abed's dorm room last year, catching a movie from the list whenever they had some free time. “Didn’t we only get halfway through though?”

Jeff chuckles. “Yeah, the last one we watched was  _Scarface_. I remember because Pierce said, “Say hello to my little friend,” and pointed at his crotch and Shirley hit him with her purse.”

“Good times.”

“Understatement _._ Pierce getting a black eye is the _best_ of times. It doesn't happen enough actually.”

She laughs softly, her usual words of defense for Pierce just starting to formulate when Jeff’s phone starts to ring; the loud generic tone softened by the thick material of his jean pocket.

Jeff frowns a little bemusedly at the unexpectedness – aside from a few texts his phone has been mostly silent for a change – and fishes the phone from his pocket, his smile fading as his eyes flick over the illuminated screen. “I, uh, I have to take this. Sorry.”

He spins away and wanders to the other side of the bridge, side-stepping a couple sitting cross-legged on a picnic blanket, both shouting “Sante!” in a toast before drinking what looks like champagne from plastic cups.  Annie frowns at the huge intake of breath stretched across Jeff’s back seconds before he answers.

He talks for a while, distractedly pinging at the padlocks before he finds a thread of ribbon to twist between his fingers. Annie feels like she’s intruding on something private but she can’t stop glancing over, part intrigued, part relieved by the distraction, her pulse racing when he catches her gaze with a muted smile as he nods at whoever’s on the line.

Eventually his call ends and Jeff drifts back slowly, stopping to apologize dazedly to the couple whose blanket he walked over. He finally reaches her, not quite looking at anything, and Annie’s not sure what to say.

“That was my mom.”

Her mouth drops soundlessly. “Oh,” she squeaks her surprise because that is the last person she expected. “Is she okay?”

“Yeah, I guess.” Jeff stares at her distractedly before turning back to his phone still in hand, blinking at it slowly like it's completely alien to him. “She wanted to know if I’ve found anything about my Dad. I think it’s been playing on her mind.”

Annie jolts a little, eyes widening. She’s been so wrapped up in everything they’ve been doing together – so absorbed by Jeff’s hands and mouth and that thing he does with his tongue, so focused on taking photos of streetlamps and feet and creepy armless statues - that she completely forgot the reason Jeff even came to Europe.

And maybe she forgot her own reasons too.

 _Maybe_.

She shakes her head of the thought and sweeps her fingertips up his forearm where it's clenched and tense. “I hope she’s okay.”

“She’s fine but… _Fuck_.”

Annie rears back and grimaces an apology at a startled couple hastily trying to cover their children's ears too late as they walk past. She mouths “Sorry” but when she turns back to Jeff his face is wrinkled in confusion and shaded with the kind of pain that feels all too familiar, and her chest actually hurts.

“Jeff.”

He scrubs a palm down his jawline and slouches to rest his forearms on top of the railing, like all the energy to hold himself up has fallen away. Annie does the same, tucking herself close beside him, and they both stand there for a moment, watching the ripple of murky water below.

“Have I just been really selfish here, Annie?”

Her eyes grow wide. “What, what do you mean?”

“Since I decided to look for my dad I’ve been thinking about how it would affect me, what it would be like to see him again, what I’d say. I didn’t once consider what this might be doing to my mom.” He shakes his head, huffing bitterly, “I’m an asshole.”

“Please don’t say that.” Annie smoothes a palm across the broadness of his back, rubbing at the tightness she finds stretched there. “You have every right to think those things. He’s your dad and he should have been there.”

“Yeah, but I’m not the only one he left.”

“True. But he divorced your mom. He didn’t divorce you. That’s not how it’s supposed to work. Your mom knows that. She’s probably just wondering where he is. I think anyone would want to know where someone disappeared to for twenty years. I know I would.”

Jeff turns to look at her, expression softening in the way that makes her toes curl. “How’d you get so wise?”

“Meh,” she smiles lightly, raising one shoulder to cheek. “I had to grow up quickly I guess.”

His smile falters a little and he nods as though the thought just occurred to him. “I forget, you know, that your dad left too. I’m sorry.”

Annie jolts at the pain creeping out, low in her chest, at the memory. She doesn’t feel it very often because she’s mastered blocking it out as quickly as she mastered the periodic table, but sometimes it slithers out unexpectedly, startling in its intensity. She tries to smile but it just feels a little sad and pathetic the way it plays with her lips.

“I’m sorry too.”

Jeff wanders her face with warm eyes, reaching out to run his hand over the back of her head, smoothing the wind-mussed strands of her hair. He stoops to brush his lips against her temple and Annie leans into it for a moment, closing her eyes, savoring the contact she’s missed the last few hours through no fault but her own.

“You know, it's weird. I came to London to maybe get some idea of where my dad is and I've barely thought about him.”

“Do you,” Annie starts slowly, lifting one of the padlocks and watching it clink back. “Do you think it’s because if you think about him, it hurts?”

Jeff angles to face her. “It hurts to think about him?”

Annie’s mouth opens to protest but the sound slips away as soon as she looks at him and the way he’s watching her, eyes squinting and knowing. “A little,” she shrugs.

“Me too.”

“Yeah?”

He nods. “But in this case I actually meant that, well, _you_ had kind of distracted me from thinking about him. You’re very distracting, Annie Edison.”

Annie smiles in spite of the rapid rush through her veins. “It has been nice to get lost in everything. You… You’re kind of distracting too, Jeff Winger.”

He grins, eyebrows raised. “Kind of?”

“Semantics.”

Jeff chuckles but it trails off into a heavy sigh that pulls his lips downwards as he grips the railing and rattles it in frustration. “Ugghhhhh.”

“Your mom will be okay, Jeff.”

“I know. I just…as much as I don’t want to, I think I should probably go see her. Go deal with it.”

Annie’s heart jumps erratically like it missed a beat and the realization of what is about to happen has the distinct _no no no_ rolling around her head, so loud she’s certain everyone can hear it. She prints a nail pattern into her palm. “Oh.”

Jeff frowns. “I mean, Paris was only ever meant to be a couple of days. Right?”

“Yeaaahhh. About that. What if we didn’t go back?” She ushers close, turning to press herself against his chest, tracing the indent between his pecs visible through his t-shirt. “What if we stayed?”

“Annie Edison, are you suggesting we...” He glances left and right before leaning forward to whisper scandalously, “Skip school?”

“Of course not!” She swats at him, though there's no fire behind it. “But school doesn’t start until next week.”

“But don’t you usually need the week before to plan your outfits and buy textbooks and pens and read ahead for the semester?”

Her lips pinch at her own ridiculous predictability. “Yes, but maybe I’m not ready to do all that. Maybe I’ve had enough of reading for classes I don’t have yet, or wasting time researching pens with the best grip and ink flow, or picking out, what, a different colored skirt and cardigan combo? Maybe I’ve had enough of planning out my life!”

Her voice escalates until Jeff raises his palms in mock defense, laughingly muttering, “Whoa okay, easy now, and really, _ink flow_?” but his teasing only serves to heighten the surge of something burning up the back of her throat.

It feels like frustration but she’s not sure why. She hooks her fingers around the wire of the fencing, watching the skin turn white the harder she presses and pokes.

“Is this another attempt at being spontaneous?” Jeff smirks. “Because I gotta say, Annie, I think you should let that one go.”

“This is what my trip was all about, Jeff. Being loosey-goosey and-”

“Loosey-goosey?”

“You can blame Britta for that.”

“Oh, I will. Repeatedly.”

“Anyway,” she snaps, annoyed by the interruption. “Why are you questioning this? Anyone would think you actually want to go home and go to school.”

“And anyone would think that you don’t.”

Annie shrinks backwards, turning to rest against the railing, the metal of the padlocks cold against her bare legs. She’s momentarily mesmerized by the soft sway of the current below as Jeff moves closer, the silence licking at the space between them.

“Annie, seriously, what’s wrong? And don't say nothing because you’ve been acting weird all afternoon.”

Annie swallows the sudden thickness of her throat, the threads of her restraint barely holding on to the madness that's been threatening to burst for hours.

What’s. Wrong?

Well, now she knows the map of Jeff’s body and the touch that makes his cheeks flush and the breath catch high in his throat. She knows he clutches at her in the deepest of sleep and the whisper of her name when he’s inside her makes her pulse race in a way she didn’t know was possible. Now she knows that just the sight of his smile widening makes her happy and _god_ isn’t that just a little bit sickening? And the more she learns these things, the more confused she becomes because she didn’t plan or prepare for this strange fluttery feeling that is buzz-humming beneath her skin and she’s not even sure what it means and is there not a book she can read first?

Despite all this, she doesn’t want to go home now. With Jeff she’s seen and said and done things that never would have happened. It all feels like a hazy, languid dream that she wants to float through for as long as possible. Because she knows, somewhere in the deepest part of her, locked in that place she tries so _so_ hard not to think about – where she hides the lingering shame of her addiction and the memory of her mother’s face just before she left for rehab and the sound of her father’s car as it pulled away from the drive one last time - that whatever this feeling is can’t continue beyond this moment, here and now.

Because she’s Annie Edison and he’s…he’s Jeff Winger and that combination never worked at Greendale.

She just can’t believe she didn’t realize this sooner.

Startled by the warmth of Jeff’s hand running soothingly across her shoulder blades, Annie sighs. “I…I really don’t want to go home yet. I just want to stay a little longer. That’s what was playing on my mind earlier, the thought of going home.”

Jeff tilts his head a fraction, eyes roaming her face affectionately, and wraps his arms around her tight. She burrows closer, aware of the tip of his chin resting on her head, undulating as he speaks. “Why didn’t you just say so?”

“I don’t know,” she mumbles, the words slightly muffled where she’s pressed into his shirt.

“Annie, this feeling is completely normal. You’re sad that your vacation is ending and that’s understandable but-”

“Jeff. I know what I’m feeling. You don’t have to explain it to me.” Pulling back slightly, she glides her palms up his chest. “I just want a few more days of this,” she starts, wetting her lips a little, aware of the sudden zip of her pulse. “Will you stay with me?”

Jeff clutches at her hips. “Do you really think I want to go visit my mom?”

“Probably not. To be honest, I kind of thought you avoided her most of the time.”

“Well, I try. But I don’t know, I feel like I owe her this - to be a good son for once. And, well, that same shitty feeling we have about leaving will still be there in a couple of days. Unfortunately.”

Annie’s palms slip low as she stares at their feet. “Well that’s the good thing about living in the moment, Jeff. You don’t have to think about that stuff. You just, you know, live. In the moment.”

“Is that what this is about?” Jeff catches her chin to draw her gaze upwards. “That doesn’t sound like you, Annie.”

She swallows thickly, whispering, “Maybe that’s the point.”

His eyes narrow as he trails his fingers through the hair lashed around her neck by the breeze, pushing it back over her shoulder. “Annie -”

“Will you stay?” She runs her fingertip along the line of his belt, tapping at the metal clasp as she looks up at him, biting down a smile at the clench of his stomach. “I shouldn’t have to give you reasons but,” she hooks her fingers into the belt loops of his jeans, pushing her hips against him. “I’ll be naked. A lot. And we’ll go to all the designer shops you like and I’ll drink scotch every night because I know you like the way it tastes when we kiss. And I’ll stop shoving food in your mouth. I know you’ve got this thing about maintaining your abs and I wouldn’t want to ruin that because, well, they’re pretty impressive.”

She watches his smile stretch wide and returns it when his palms glide against her cheeks, breathing, “I know,” as he brings her up for a kiss. The heels of Annie’s ballet flats hit the wood beneath them as she stretches on tiptoe to meet his mouth and the kiss deepens until the need for air is the only reason they stop.

Jeff presses one final kiss to the tip of Annie’s nose and it’s so gentle and unexpected that it stirs that inexplicable something that’s been burning and turning inside her all day, knotting her insides and muddling her brain, and she has to swallow it down, inhaling the freshness of the breeze drifting from the river. Once she's got a handle on it, she smiles up at Jeff as he links their hands and pulls her away from the railing.

A bigger crowd has gathered to watch the sunset now, dotting the bridge with couples and families and artists with wooden easels, eyes bright and bewitched, and for a moment there is only the soft thump of Jeff and Annie’s footsteps padding slowly across the bridge.

They’re nearly at the embankment when Jeff squeezes her hand tighter, murmuring, “Okay,” and it is all he needs to say.

Annie exhales a breath and smiles, feeling the tension burst and settle into relief inside her, for now. It's tentative but she'll take it. As she turns to him she has to hold a flattened palm against her forehead to shield her eyes from the dazzle of the sun glinting gold off the water as it sets in the distance; the sky a pretty canvas of pinks.

“I had you at naked didn’t I?”

Jeff wraps his arm around her shoulders and tucks her close. A gust of wind comes up off the river cold as he ducks to press a kiss against her forehead, nudging the tip of his nose across her hairline, muttering, “Something like that,” softly against her hair.


	10. Chapter 10

On the left bank later that evening, the street buzzes with passing traffic and bleating horns and tourists taking pictures of the Notre Dame Cathedral across the Seine, the brightly lit towers dazzling against the black of the water below. There's an eager bounce of excitement in the way Annie points at a green-fronted shop with a yellow sign that reads _Shakespeare and Company_ hidden by lights threaded between the trees.

Scattered on the sidewalk are wooden carts and boxes of books and through the glow of the windows Jeff can see the shop is busy even though it’s 10pm. He turns to Annie just as the flash of her camera lightens the people walking past.

“Okay, so when you asked me if I wanted to get out of there,” he thumbs back to Le Petit Châtelet where they just finished dinner. “This is not what I had in mind.”

“What did you think I meant?”

Jeff ushers close behind her, fingertips barely caressing the light swell of her hips, crouching so his mouth is level with her ear. He doesn’t kiss her but lets her feel the warmth of his breath as he murmurs, “You know _exactly_ what I thought you meant.”

Annie quivers a little. “Well, the day’s not over.”

Jeff smirks, “But a bookstore?” as he pulls away. “You realize we have these at home, right?”

“Never heard of them.” Annie studies the shot on the camera but her lips play amused. “Don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Cute.”

“Yes, Jeff, this is a bookstore. Ten points for you,” she smiles, rolling her eyes at the quirk of his brow. “It’s in lots of movies.”

“So Abed told you about it.”

“Hey,” she gasps indignantly. “Why does Abed have to be the know-it-all about everything? I know things.”

“Really. What movie was it in?”

“ _Before Sunset_ , with Ethan Hawke?” At his blank expression she fluffs her hand flippantly. “Anyway, I was always going to come here but I know that next week is Abed’s Woody Allen movie week.”

Jeff blinks at her. “I feel like this story’s not over.”

“Well, this was also in _Midnight in Paris_ , a Woody Allen film – _see_ I know things – so I thought I’d take a picture for Abed while I was here. Two birds, one stone – that kind of thing.”

“You’re ridiculous," he grins. "And efficient.”

Annie wrinkles her nose but doesn’t disagree. “Or maybe I’m just trying to be a good friend. Any movie-related photos will get me at least three _cools_. You know I’m right.”

“Spending an hour acting like Rose or any of Inspector Spacetime’s companions will get you five. This is Abed.”

“Jeff,” she scolds. “Rose is from that _other_ show we’re not allowed to mention. You know how Abed feels about it.”

“But Abed’s not here,” he chuckles, just as Annie continues loudly, “And anyway, I play Geneva. I do a mean British accent, listen.” She coughs a little and sets her chin high, fisting the air jauntily. “‘Ello mate!”

“Hmm.” Jeff nods. “It’s uncanny. Dick Van Dyke’s got nothing on you.”

“I know, right?” She smiles, wrestling her camera into his protective case. “Wait, does this mean you’ve seen _Mary Poppins_? I’m learning so much about you.”

“Everyone knows Dick Van Dyke had the worst cockney accent ever. I don’t need to have seen the movie to know that.”

“Mmm-hmm. You didn’t say no though.”

He can’t help but laugh. “I think you’re missing the real issue here.”

“What, that you watch Disney movies?”

“No.” He grins widely at the playful twinkle in her eyes. “I’m thinking more along the lines of you playing in the Dreamatorium. Abed, I understand, but you… What’s that about?”

Annie’s smile wanes a little. “Um,  _played,_ only once with Abed. It’s actually Troy’s bedroom now. I thought you knew.”

He shrugs. “But what did you two do in there?” watching Annie fuss with the zip of her purse as she shoves her camera back inside, and Jeff’s not sure why his heart races. “Was it like a Dungeons and Dragons thing?”

“ _Psssh_. Nooooo,” she squawks, and by the widening of her eyes, louder than even she expected. She shifts her purse higher on her shoulder, the way she often does as an excuse to occupy her hands. “Let’s go inside.”

Jeff frowns at Annie’s evasiveness but shakes it off with a shrug to follow her determined dash inside. As they hover by the doorway, the musky scent of old books warring with the freshness drifting in from outside, a petite woman with blonde hair looks up from sorting receipts and greets them with a very English-sounding, “Bonjour.”

Around them there are wooden ladders propped against floor-to-ceiling books on mahogany shelves, every surface eaten greedily. A chandelier above throws out pools of green light between flaking wooden beams.

“Wow, Annie. Isn’t this…?” Jeff frowns suddenly at the empty space beside him. “What. The hell.”

Catching a glimpse of wavy brown hair bouncing eagerly up the stone steps deeper inside, Jeff follows with a grin, eyes roaming the walls covered with quotes and drawings and notes in foreign handwriting that flutter as he walks past.

Eventually he finds Annie in a small alcove that leads upstairs with hardly any room to move. Two red-velour theatre seats wedged underneath the staircase have clearly seen one ass too many.

“Can you believe this place?” Annie beams at Jeff as he gingerly ducks through the archway, treading her fingertips along a shelf of fraying book spines. “Apparently, the owner lets struggling writers live and work here while they write their novels. It’s amazing.”

“Yeah, it’s…something.” He squints at the books stacked high on every step, barely leaving a walkable path upstairs, and instantly thinks it's a health and safety lawsuit waiting to happen. Combined with the height of the low ceiling the air feels a little too close for his liking.

“Well, I love it and you never know Jeff, if you stopped rolling your eyes everywhere we visit you might find you like it too. Mind blowing, I know.”

“You…” Jeff huffs out a shocked breath, grabbing Annie by the waist as she starts to move away.

Annie shrieks and jumps as he pinches her side, grinning impishly over her shoulder. “What was that, Jeff? I can’t hear you over all that eye rolling. It’s _so_ loud.”

“FYI, Annie, I do like it here.”

“Oooh, watch out for flying gray matter.”

Jeff grins, tugging her against him so that her back is pressed warm against his chest, and winds his arms underneath her bust. Annie makes a show of struggling as he crouches a little, his stubbled jaw scraping gently against her cheek, mumbling, “I mean it,” before squeezing her tighter.

“Oh, well, if you _mean_ it,” Annie says through a smile, and rolls her head back against him, smoothing her fingertips up and down the length of his forearms, although the movement seems almost distracted than done with intent. For a moment they embrace in their own silence, the footsteps of people heavy on the wooden floors above.

At the feel of her pressed close to him after a day of awkward distance, Jeff feels this satisfied buzz of contentment bubble up inside, tumbling from his throat before he has a chance to catch it. He hums between breaths and is halfway dotting a line of kisses along the edge of her jawbone when Annie stiffens beneath his touch, her fingers stilling abruptly against his flesh. She stumbles a little awkwardly as she spins and pushes herself away, although Jeff’s grip doesn’t allow her to get too far.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing! I just, uh…” she trails off, eyes dashing around the small space like she’s searching for something. “I was just thinking how funny it is that you actually like somewhere I’ve shown you. Yay!” She fists the air feebly, like she's not quite committed to it. “We should celebrate.”

Jeff laughs, bemused. “We’re allowed to like different things.”

“Uh, I know that, Jeff, but c’mon. You’ve not really enjoyed anything we’ve done together.”

“Wrong. So wrong you need a new word for it.”

“Huh.” Annie’s tense grip around his fingers starts to settle and she taps her chin slowly. “I must have misunderstood your complaining the last week or so. I mean, do you have a Daily Quota of Snark to fill or something?”

“Yes actually, and like you said, the day’s not over.” His grin widens at the sight of hers, and he honestly didn't realize how happy it made him to make her smile. Until now. “And didn’t you saying something earlier about travel being nothing without commentary?”

Annie eyes him curiously. “I did say that.”

“Well, Annie, just because my comments aren’t positive doesn’t make my contribution any less valid.”

Her head shakes as she bites down a smile. “Does it hurt, you know, talking out of your ass?”

Jeff rolls his head back and laughs hard, the noise skipping around the small alcove. When his eyes eventually return to meet Annie’s, he catches her gaze and plays with it fondly, watching the mixture of pride and amusement skip across her face, and he's pretty staggered by the absolute affection he feels for her in that moment, so much so that it's almost overwhelming.

“Fuck," he breathes. "I want you.”

He just can’t help himself.

Annie’s pleasure at his laughter seems to falter and Jeff’s does too, instantly unnerved by the sight of her neck rolling hard as she swallows and he feels himself doing the same. He doesn’t want a repeat of earlier though – with the silence and the awkwardness and Annie disappearing into her thoughts because then he'd disappear into the mess of his own and that never ends well. The four hours since they left the Louvre have been too good to go back to that now.

“So,” he starts hurriedly. “You mentioned something about celebrating? I think we should go do that right now. Preferably somewhere you can see me naked because if that’s not a celebration, I don’t know what is.”

Thankfully she sees his joking as the subject change he intended, and the rigidness of her shoulders relaxes a little.

"I think you just want to see _me_ naked,' she says, reaching up to smooth the line of his shirt buttons.

"Well, duh. But I kind of just want to get out of here to be honest. Seen one bookstore, you've pretty much seen them all."

“See!” Annie says around a spluttered giggle as she points at him firmly. “I knew you didn’t like it in here. Bringing Jeff Winger to a place like this, where people willingly buy and read books for _fun_?! What was I thinking?”

“Okay, so maybe _like_ was a strong word and I have to admit this place makes me feel kind of claustrophobic with the amount of stuff they have packed in here and seriously, was it made for a hobbit?” He gestures to the beams hanging low above them, not really having to reach that high to touch one with his fingertips. “But I like a good bookstore sometimes, preferably one with a well-stocked comics section and, you know, some headroom.”

“Really,” Annie says flatly.

“Sure.” Jeff bites the inside of his mouth just as it starts to twitch with a smile. “It helps, of course, that women find a good looking book-reading man irresistible, Annie. It’s clinically proven. Thought you would have known that, what with all those books you read. _For fun_.”

“Hmm. No, no you’re right,” she nods, playing along with his teasing. “There’s usually lots of eye-candy when I go. I just don’t know how I keep my hands to myself.”

“I’m just kidding - _wait_.” His smirk slowly fades. “What?”

“What?” The flutter of her eyelashes is a little too innocent for his liking and Jeff is pretty sure she’s messing with him but he just… He needs...

“When do you go and what’s this about eye-candy? And _hands_?”

“Saturday afternoons, usually.” She teases around a smile. “You know, when you’re at the gym or the tanning salon.”

“I only use the tanning salon in the winter months and it’s not _every_ Saturday.”

“Because that makes it better?”

“Wow, Annie. Deflecting much?”

“Jeff. Have you been looking up psychological terms to tease Britta again? You know she hates it when you do that.”

“Please, as if I’d need to look up crap to tease Britta.” His eyes narrow slightly. “And I know what you’re doing.”

“I’m not deflecting, Jeff. There’s nothing to tell. I can joke too, you know! There’s eye candy everywhere but I don’t eat it – I mean, okay, that metaphor didn’t work out like I imagined.” Jeff chuckles at her obvious fluster. “What I mean is I haven’t…there haven’t been -”

“Any men or hands?” he offers, brow raised and probably a little too hopeful if he thinks about it.

"No, well…" Annie’s eyes glaze in a thoughtful drift to the side. “Technically, there were three dates but I always had to pay so I forget to count them. Whoa,” she breathes and chuckles uneasily, her head shake erratic. “How did we even get onto this subject? It’s silly.”

Jeff frowns a little at that. He never knew Annie had been dating but the way his stomach drops and his fist clenches at the thought, ignorance was probably a good thing.

“They only count as dates if the guy pays?”

“No but.” Annie sighs, opening the cover of a heavy leather-bound book to trace the font inside. “Do we have to talk about this?”

“Hey, why not?” He shrugs, shoving his hands into his pockets. “Just making conversation. And you’re a woman, Annie. Typically, you like those.”

The cover slaps shut.

“Yes. You’re right. I am a modern independent woman and you know what? I don’t mind paying for a date or going Dutch but _all_ the time? All I’m saying is – and don’t tell Britta I said this because I will never hear the end of it – occasionally it would be nice to be taken on a date the old fashioned way, once or twice, to be romanced and -” Her eyes widen in her sudden pause, like her brain has finally caught up to her mouth, and the fluff of her hand is dismissive as she says, “You know, whatever.”

“Right. Whatever. Duly noted.”

“What? No, no you don’t have to note anything, duly or otherwise. Just to make that clear. This is just a conversation, right? Like you said?”

Jeff nods, aware of the spike of adrenaline gushing in his red-tipped ears as if his body knows what he’s about to do before he’s mentally even considered it. He fixes his most charming smile and drops it immediately, feeling too awkward the way it settles against his teeth. It’s ridiculous how inept he feels right now, even though he’s dated his fair share of women and then some.

But this is different territory now – terrifyingly awkward territory that his feet usually never want to travel – and he kind of feels like he’s back in that Pottery class from forever ago, sitting behind the potter’s wheel with no clue what to do with his hands and he hates it, hates not knowing where to start because he’s so much better than this.

Grabbing a book at random he thumbs through it casually, the zip of pages fanning the air a few times while his courage builds. “Well, Annie, let’s make it clearer.” He tosses the book onto the table, gaze intent as he murmurs, “When we get back to Greendale we’ll go out,” and steps a little closer, “I’ll pay,” and closer still. “It will count.”

Annie’s eyes widen in his shadow. “W - What?”

“When we get home I’ll take you out – you, me, dinner - wherever you want to go.” He brushes a wave of her hair away from her eyes, letting his fingertips linger at the silky ends. “What do you say?”

Annie’s mouth opens and closes wordlessly before she staggers back a little, spinning swiftly to return his discarded book to its rightful place. “I don’t think we need to talk about that now.”

“What,” he huffs out on a laugh that falls flat. “ _What?_ ”

She jumps at the bite to his voice but doesn’t look at him, her fingers still lingering against the shelf. “Well, let’s just enjoy the time we have left.”

“You make it sound like we’re dying.”

“Do I?” Annie giggles, and Jeff is not imagining the awkward lilt to her laugh that might as well be nails on a chalkboard for all it does to his insides.

“What-”

“Oooh. An old edition of War and Peace.”

“Annie.”

“Maybe I should buy this for Britta.”

“ _Annie_.” Jeff’s stomach plummets as he tries to swallow her evasiveness, and the soles of his feet tingle in that weird way they always do when he’s on a slippery surface or he’s about to fall, which doesn’t even make sense but _nothing_ does right now. “You maybe want to fill me in on what’s going on here?”

Annie finally turns to him, expression unreadable. “We’re looking at books.”

“That won’t work,” he scoffs, annoyance dissolving to a frown. “I just asked you out. I thought this is what you wanted. I mean. I gotta say, Annie, I’m kind of confused here.”

A flicker of hesitation plays with her brow before she seemingly gathers her thoughts and her fight and juts her chin in challenge. “Well don’t be. There’s nothing to be confused about. You don’t have to placate me, Jeff. It’s okay. I’m an adult. I know what this was.”

_What. The. Fuck._

“ _Placate_ you?”

She shrinks backwards at the sting of his voice again. “That’s, that’s what I said.”

His head tilts to one side, eyes narrowing carefully. “Right. Okay. Tell me. What was this?”

The silence lengthens between them, heavy with the footsteps above and the distant chime of the bell above the shop door, and Jeff’s agitation spreads down from the tightness spearing his shoulders to the fitful tap of his foot.

He folds his arms sharply. “Annie.”

“It was, you know…” She pauses, eyebrows rising, waiting for him to understand but he doesn't.

He doesn't understand anything right now.

“What?”

Annie shrugs, one hand gesturing erratically. “A fling.”

“ _A fling_ ,” he grits out distastefully.

“Yes?” she says, weaker now.

“Wow,” he states flatly. “A fling, Annie, really. Huh.”

His questioning aggravates the pinch of her lips. “Repeating the words won’t magically change them, Jeff. Anyway, I thought this is what you wanted.”

“What I wanted or what _you_ wanted? Because I don’t remember saying that. Ever.”

“You didn’t need to say it, Jeff. I know you,” she huffs loudly, glancing around at everything and anything but him. “You have one night stands and two week flings and that’s your thing and why are we even talking about this? We were having such a nice time.”

“Look, no one is more surprised about this than me, Annie. They must put something in the water here. I blame France. Stupid Paris with its _Stupid. Giant. Television. Transmitter._ ”

Annie turns to watch him carefully, her startled expression at the volume of his voice melting into something else, something Jeff never wants to see, least of all from her. He blanches at it, slamming his eyes shut for a second to get it together before he turns away and cuts back through the store, ignoring the curious looks and nearly dislodging a row of books from the force of his stride out onto the street.

Outside the swarm of tourists and locals has thinned and the freshness of the night envelops his flesh hot and pumped with adrenaline but gives little relief. Fists tight by his sides, Jeff has to restrain his feet from taking the path they clearly want to go, which is far _far_ away, anywhere but here. Instead he paces between the trees, his shoulders bathed in distorted webs of colored light. A small dog tied to the trunk observes him with a sniffled whine.

“Jeff?”

He stills instantly, unsettled by the way his heart contracts at the sound of Annie’s voice, head biting towards her standing hesitantly in the doorway. She frowns and blows out a breath like she’s priming herself for something, and Jeff wonders if that’s exactly what he looks like before he lets a woman down gently.

_You deserve better._

_It’s not you, it’s me._

_I hope we can still be friends._

By the time Annie reaches him, Jeff has run through ten different lines that used to roll off his tongue with such practiced ease and he’s not prepared to hear any of them. Not from -

“So,” he snaps, scrubbing a palm across the back of his neck. “Now what? Now we go back to before - _friends_?”

Her gaze jumps from her fingers. “Don’t say it like that! You and Britta stayed friends and you were doing it for a year.”

“More like six months but whatever.”

Annie’s jaw drops a little. “You can’t be mad at me, Jeff. You, you can’t pretend that you didn’t want to get this,” her hands wave erratically between them. “Whatever we are – out of your system.”

“ _Ohhhhhh_ , is that what we were doing? Why didn’t you just say so? I think I could have handled that. I’m an adult too, Annie. You’re hot. I’ve wanted to sleep with you for -”

“Stop it!” she shouts, stomping her foot for emphasis, the sound of which startles an old woman perusing the books on a nearby wooden cart.

“Why?” Jeff lowers his voice at the sight of her intrigue, moving in close. “I’m just reducing our fling to its basic terms, what’s wrong with that? It’s just a fling, Annie. It shouldn’t bother you so much.”

Hating the way she flinches and curls her arms around herself defensively, Jeff studies the scuff of his shoes against the asphalt. Her earlier words replay through his thoughts on a train-like rhythm that builds and builds until this hysterical laugh gurgles up inside of him, bursting out as a staggered breath through his nose.

“What about last night?”

Annie’s eyes dash between his confusedly. “What?”

“You know – you said I could show you how I feel. Was it bullshit?”

There's a flash of hurt in her gaze before it slips to the sidewalk. “No, I…I don’t know what it was.”

In the ensuing silence a couple stumble from the brasserie next door shouting, “Plus d'alcool,” and “Il fait frais!” around puffs of their cigarettes, and Annie’s eyes gratefully follow the distraction. Jeff turns to watch the night swallow their departing forms along the promenade with wisps of white smoke and laughter, the orange flames of their cigarettes like fireflies.

Their eyes reunite because it's impossible not to and Annie steps closer, the flickering golden beam of a nearby streetlamp playing tricks with her face.

“Jeff.”

Jeff sighs wearily, the earlier burst of adrenaline bleeding away until his limbs feel like deflated balloons. “Look, I don’t like to overthink things, Annie, but I don’t understand. Earlier you practically beg me to stay with you and -”

“I did not beg!”

“Eh.” His face scrunches disbelievingly. “There was a _little_ begging.”

Her mouth puckers sourly before she closes her eyes and takes a deep breath through her nose. “Maybe I panicked when you said you wanted to leave. I mean, why the rush? We’ve been having so much fun I just wanted things to stay as they are. I want things to go back to the way they were yesterday.”

He can’t stop the disbelief scoring lines across his forehead, though he tries. “And then what?”

Annie frowns. “What…?”

“Well, we continue whatever it is we’re doing and then what? This trip is ending whether you want it to or not, Annie. What were you gonna do? Get to the airport and say, ‘Bye Jeff. Thanks for the great sex. See you in study group. Au Revoir!’”

“I don’t know, okay!” She rubs her fingertips across her forehead, the force enough to redden the trail. “I hadn’t thought about it. I didn’t _want_ to think about it.”

“Who _are_ you?” he laughs, breathily and bitter.

“Who are _you_?” Annie snaps. “I thought this arrangement would be perfect for you!”

“I wasn’t aware it was a business deal.”

“You know what I mean,” she answers hurriedly.

“No, Annie, I really don’t.”

The silence gnaws at them again and Jeff would give anything to swat it away.

He looks down when Annie’s hands latch onto his more cautiously than he's used to, blinking at the way her thumbs graze the veins carved there. The intimacy had become a natural thing – something he didn’t even think about – and the unexpected ease with which it happened has his lips pressing into a thinner harder line.

Annie’s gaze darts across his face. “What are you thinking?”

Jeff isn’t sure if the desperation shading her eyes is just a trick of the lights or shadows or maybe something he wants to see.

“I’m thinking maybe the day’s over.”

 

 

~x~

 

 

On the Metro ride back to the hotel Jeff watches the faint outline of his reflection in the train window scratched with graffiti, the tiled wall outside whizzing past in a blur of white. Annie sits on one of the plastic seats, head ducked as she scrolls through the pictures on her camera. Now and then, through the jostle of other passengers, Jeff’s gaze dips unwittingly to the glossy shroud of her hair. He can’t see her face but his jaw tenses when he spots her pause lengthily over the stupid photo of him she supposedly wants to cherish.

At least now he knows why.

The silence follows them two blocks from the station like an uninvited guest, smothering the air in the hotel elevator and the walk along the hallway only punctuated by the slither of Jeff’s tie as he yanks it away from his neck. When they reach their room Jeff enters the bathroom, slamming the door hard enough to jolt their toothbrushes sitting together in one of the glasses on the sink vanity, the vibrations tinkering the plastic against the glass.

Housekeeping must have put them in there but the sight has Jeff snatching his instantly, mumbling obscenities as he lines it with toothpaste and shoves it into his mouth with enough force to make him retch.

He stares vacantly at the mirror while his mouth froths white and the bristles scrape roughly against his gums the more he thinks about the last hour – about Annie and flings and hand holding and toothbrushes sitting together like they sit there all the fucking time. He spits into the sink with a frenzied burst of laughter, eyes finding his reflection again. The lingering white foam trickles down the sides of his mouth while the base of the mirror starts to steam where he’s mistakenly turned on the hot tap.

When he eventually leaves the bathroom Annie startles a little, bouncing on tiptoes by the foot of the bed where she’s dressed in a pink camisole and matching shorts printed with tiny purple stars. Her hands twist together in front of her until she looks like she’s all elbows and arms, and Jeff has never understood how silence can seem so deafening until it lands thickly in the stretch between them. He sort of aches to fill it but right now he’s got nothing.

Turning towards the bed, Jeff glares as he pulls off the heavy-patterned coverlet, folding it distractedly and throwing it on the stool tucked underneath the vanity table.

“I’ll just…” Annie points awkwardly at the bathroom. “Brush my teeth.”

As Annie passes him Jeff tugs at the tucked-in sheets, yanking them with an angry grunt once the bathroom door closes. He stares at the bed a little dazedly – at the tangled sheets usually wrapped around their naked bodies, and the reminder has him hastily stripping to his briefs and dropping impulsively to the floor, the ensuing press-ups effort enough for the blood to race harder in his ears.

Five, ten, twenty, thirty.

It’s not enough for his fitness level but with every rep the urge to throw things and drink the contents of the mini-bar is fading, and he feels a little more in control and that’s something.

That _is_ something.

Crawling into bed, he punches the pillow a number more than necessary and stares at the ceiling, thoughts twisted into the kind of murkiness that has him thumbing the bridge of his nose. It’s only 11pm and they’re usually in a bar somewhere making out or on the hotel balcony while she sits in his lap and steals the scotch on his lips like it’s romantic or something.

The bitter huff of his laugh sounds a little hysterical in the solitude.

Jeff’s not sure how long Annie’s in the bathroom but his heart races when the door eventually opens, unease scoring the length of his tightening muscles as she murmurs, “Oh,” and with a click the room floods with darkness.

There’s a pause before the bed sinks beside him, filling his nostrils with minty toothpaste and the clean scent of honey soap that will forever remind him of her and _holy crap_  he should not be thinking things like that. Annie fusses for a while - fluffing the pillow, tugging the sheet – before all is still.

Too still.

Following the line where wall meets ceiling, Jeff’s eyes gradually adjust to the lack of light. There’s a faint thud of music from a club down the street, not loud enough to permeate the stillness and silence seeping into everything but enough to make the awkward distance between them noticeable. He tries to wrap his mind around the fact that only fifteen hours ago he woke to the feel of Annie’s fingers trawling his spine and the weight of so much…promise.

He can hear the thud of his blood circling every vein and vessel.

“Jeff?”

Annie’s whispered voice sounds so loud that it almost hurts his ears.

“Yeah?”

His heart races harder.

“It’s not going to be the same as yesterday, is it?”

He expels a long breath. “What did you expect?” he asks, quiet and resigned now.

“I didn’t expect anything. I just…hoped I guess.”

His lips press tightly. “I’m sorry.”

“Me too.”

Out of the corner of his eye he sees the flutter of Annie’s fingers as she picks at the fine skin around her nails and he suddenly wishes he knew what that meant – if she was nervous or bored or as unsure of everything as he was.

“I know this might sound…” Annie starts before trailing off with a shake of her head he feels against the pillows.

Jeff turns to stare at her in the darkness, the pools of her eyes so wide and watery in the gray still of their room. He wills his mouth to vocalize the _no no no_ rolling on repeat in answer to a question she never asked, but then his arm lifts instinctively and he doesn’t have time to regret the action as Annie shuffles closer, exhaling a small breath of relief and pressing her cheek to his chest.

They lay there for a while, breaths soft and steady in syncopation with the hum of the mini-bar. Annie plucks at a loose thread on the hem of the sheet where it rests against Jeff’s abdomen, and eventually rolls her head up to look at him just as Jeff’s sewn together the courage to ask why, why have you done this to me, why have you made me want _more_? He wants to punish her in some way, make her feel as unraveled as he does right now, but he can’t, he just can’t. 

It’s Annie.

He shifts to move away but Annie tightens her grip against his waist, her brow rising almost pleadingly in a way that has his adrenaline spiking, triggering memories of so many endless, nameless moments when she’s looked at him expectantly and dared him to feel.

The blood races hard in his ears now, and he surprises himself when he half rolls on top of her, his forearm trapped beneath her neck, fingertips splayed across her shoulder as their eyes dart across each other’s faces. He can see the want lingering there with something else, an inexplicable _something_ that's been teetering on the edge of every moment between them lately, but it’s her whispered “Jeff” that does it and he yields instantly.

It’s just a kiss.

Swallowing Annie’s throaty moan, he presses her into the mattress, fuelled by the caress of her toes sweeping up the muscle of his calf as she tucks him close, her hands warm around his neck. Resisting the urge to remove her camisole the way he usually does, he strokes a path up the length of her thigh and back again, like it’s safe and harmless and…

Kisses don’t mean anything.

Their tongues circle almost desperately and Jeff can feel the hum of their mingled moans in his fingertips, but it’s the heat of Annie’s small hand edging underneath the elastic of his briefs and squeezing the muscle of his ass that has Jeff pulling away, breath heavy, lips wet.

“Annie,” he murmurs warningly, although he’s not sure who he’s warning.

Or why.

He still wants her. He can’t think of a moment otherwise.

Annie blinks up at him as she sets her chin and tugs at his briefs, pulling them down over his ass with the bold kind of determination only she’s perfected. Clenching his eyes tight Jeff knows he should move away but he really doesn’t fucking want to, and when the warmth of her upturned palm slides down his abdomen he can’t help but rock his hips into her grip.

It’s barely seconds of tentative little touches and soft intakes of breath against his jaw when Annie removes her hand and pushes hard against his chest. The force has his eyes opening wide.

“Stop,” Jeff mutters hastily, lust-dazed and breathless and caught off-guard. “We should stop.”

Annie rolls them over with more strength than he thought possible, shifting up onto her knees and peeling her camisole over her head, hair wild and crackling with static.

“No,” she murmurs, biting her lower lip as she shakes her head a little. Hooking her fingers into her shorts she tugs them down her thighs, watching him watch her as she shimmies left and right to shed them completely.

Jeff’s pulse escalates rapidly as Annie slinks further down the bed, her nakedness dusted in moonlight and shadows, her fingertips skittering up his muscled thighs to tug his briefs off the rest of the way, pausing to kiss the indent of his hip, the ends of her hair faint and ticklish against his skin.

“Annie,” he warns again, though the lift of his hips betrays him.

“I don’t want to stop!” His briefs hit the floor-standing lamp in the corner hard enough to shake it as she looks at him, eyes as wide and dark as his own, the swell of her breasts so tempting with every harsh breath. “And neither do you.”

Her hand circles his growing erection and the mattress shudders as Jeff falls weightily onto his back, his fist unable to stifle his grunt of pleasure so stark in the silence. Every stroke and squeeze is braver, firmer, bolder than before, and when he lifts his head to watch, Annie holds his gaze every inch she drops.

“Holy fuck,” he breathes mindlessly, hips rolling reflexively at the wet warmth of her mouth as it meets her hand, over and over. “Faster,” he growls, hating how quickly he succumbs to her – how swiftly his control ebbs away at the feel of her eyes drinking his every moan, lost in a cycle of his head hitting the pillow and lifting to watch.

His muscles tighten with need and want and _must fucking have_ when Annie abruptly pulls away, groaning a breathy, “Come here,” as she reaches for him. Jeff sits up instantly, their mouths meeting the moment she crawls over, arms wrapped snugly around his neck as she sets the angle and rhythm of their kiss, nipping at his lip, playing wetly with his tongue.

When they break for air, Jeff runs a fingertip over Annie’s kiss-bitten lip gleaming wet in the low light, and they watch each other intently, faces millimetres apart, lips barely touching. Jeff closes his eyes, whispering “Annie” around a sigh, not quite knowing what he means to say.

She takes it as _something_ though, as Annie whines his name in response and Jeff startles at the sound and the movement, his eyes snapping open to watch as she positions herself and sinks onto him.

 _Slow_.

The hiss of their blended breath is loud and stuttered and Jeff is _gone_.

Clutching the back of his neck Annie lifts herself a little, and they both moan at every inch she rolls back down. Jeff firmly palms her ass to help guide her impatient little thrusts, needing more, and as they move the awareness of everything withers except for the tip of Annie’s tongue grazing the shell of his ear.

She tugs his earlobe with her teeth and a throaty growl, her whispered breath hot and shivery as she groans, “Jeff, I…I want -”

With a growl Jeff spins them suddenly, senselessly, throwing her back against the mattress. Annie barely has time to exhale her gasp of surprise when he demands, “On your hands and knees,” and she looks up at him, wide eyed, chest heaving.

She swallows thickly and turns herself over, lifting her ass in the air and arching her spine as she glances over her shoulder, teeth toying with her lower lip, eyes dark and tempting like she knows exactly what she’s doing to him, like she’s done this a thousand times before.

“Like this?”

Jeff growls, “ _Yes_ , fuck, yes,” as he grabs her hips and Annie cries out, the sound low and raw and visceral, her hands curling into the sheets as he enters her from behind, hard and deep.

Moving together urgently, Jeff lets his fingertips trace the roll of her spine and around to grasp greedily at her breast, trailing up into her hair, looping the waves of it through his fingers and tugging a little as she reaches back to slap at his hip, whimpering, “So good, Jeff, _more_.”

His pace quickens instinctively at the sound, the feel of her fluttering around him the closer she gets, so hot and wet as she pushes back, meeting every hard thrust with one of her own. Her hand slips for purchase a couple of times and she steadies herself on her forearms instead, spreading her thighs wider with a moan as she rests her cheek against the mattress.

Jeff hums gutturally and presses forward to kiss the slope of her shoulder, nose brushing across her honey-scented skin, the rhythm of his hips almost savage because he can’t stop, won’t stop, not now.

Annie shrieks at the change of pace, wailing like her brain has forgotten all words until the moment she tenses around him tightly, his name muffled where her mouth is pressed into the mattress, her teeth tugging, growling, at the sheets. Jeff rides her through it hard, roaring as the pleasure builds and builds and bursts, his head thrown back as he buries deep into the heat of her and everything goes white.

Hips still lurching slightly, Jeff slumps forward, panting into Annie’s neck, the lust-filled haze of her slinking away with every hard breath stretched across his ribcage.

“Shit,” he mumbles into her hair, and Annie eventually stirs and turns to look at him over her shoulder, still trying to catch her breath as her fingertips clench into the tense sweaty strain of his forearms.

“Jeff?”

“It’s okay.” He pats her thigh gently and kisses her shoulder blade before collapsing onto his back, trying not to look at her as she settles beside him because if he looks at her he just doesn’t know what he’ll do.

All he wanted to do was find his fucking dad.

“Let’s just go to sleep.”

 

 

~x~

 

 

Bathed in sunshine warm and bright through the window, Annie rolls onto her side. Stretching with a squeak and blinking away the sleep, there’s a moment of dreamy dazedness before the events of last night seep into her awareness and, with a start, she lifts her head from the pillow.

Dressed in jeans and a t-shirt, Jeff faces the open closet, the sound of empty hangers clattering inside as he unhooks his shirt. Annie hurriedly sits up against the headrest, smoothing the sheet across her breasts and securing it under her arms, her heart lurching at the sight of Jeff’s nearly-full suitcase perched on his side of the bed.

“You’re leaving.”

Jeff freezes instantly and Annie’s not sure how long they stay like that – Annie staring at the back of his head and Jeff staring at the closet. When he eventually turns he doesn’t look at her; his attention too focused on the careful folds of his shirt into his suitcase.

“Yeah.”

“I see.”

“Do you?”

His gaze lances her in the way that makes her feel see-through again, and Annie desperately wishes she was wearing more than a sheet. Things were easier to stomach with the buttons of her cardigan to play with – or a bra on, at least. She clutches the sheet tighter between her breasts.

“Yes.”

Jeff looks away, choosing to focus on stuffing rolled-up socks down the sides of his suitcase. “I’m gonna go see my mom. Seems like the right thing to do after her phone call.” He wanders to the dresser. “Plus semester starts next week. Should probably get ready for that.”

“Probably.” She wants to scoff loudly at that. Jeff Winger’s pre-semester preparation has never been anything more than buying a few new shirts and spending an extra half hour perfecting his hair in the morning. “What about last night?”

His hand hovers above the drawer handle of the dresser. “What about it?”

“We slept together.”

His mouth tightens a little. “Yeaaahhh…?”

Annie frowns. “Well…”

“Well what, Annie? It shouldn’t have happened. I told you we should have stopped.”

“You could have stopped it at any time!”

“Yeah, well, I can’t seem to stop myself where you’re concerned but you knew that already, Annie. You knew what you were doing.”

Her mouth drops indignantly. “Oh, so it’s all my fault?”

“No,” he sighs. “There’s no one at fault here. We both got carried away. It happens.”

Picking at her fingernails, Annie watches Jeff open and close all the drawers and his dismissal has her lips pinching firmly even though she knows it’s irrational, that he has every right to behave this way. He’s right. She did know what she was doing – at least she hoped.

“Look,” Jeff breathes. “This room is fully paid until Friday so I don’t want you to feel you have to leave. Okay?”

“You don’t want me to come back with you,” she asks, even though she knows the answer.

“You wanted to stay and I…can’t.”

“Jeff,” Annie sighs, feeling like it’s pulled from the depth of her stomach, and she cradles her knees as she curls them into her chest. “We should talk.”

The score of the zipper on his suitcase cuts through the heavy pause. “I didn’t think you wanted to talk.”

“That was,” she starts loudly before her voice softens and she studies her twining fingers. “I wasn’t prepared for what you said to me.”

“Says the Day Planner,” he scoffs.

“That’s unfair! You have to admit everything’s happened so fast and unexpected,” she sighs, scraping fingertips roughly through her hair. “I’ve not had any time to think things through and I’m. I was confused. I’ve been so confused.”

“Hey, there’s nothing to be confused about. That’s what you said.”

“I know but dammit, don’t lawyer me,” she growls, slapping the sides of her calves in frustration. “And don’t leave like this. Don’t leave angry.”

“I’m not angry, Annie.” He shrugs. “It is what it is. Just a fling, right?”

She swallows hard, ill-equipped for the pain settling low in her chest. “Right.”

He nods in agreement, tugging the suitcase to the floor, muttering, “This wasn’t me anyway,” as he clicks the extendable handle.

“What do you mean?” she murmurs quietly.

“Oh come on, Annie. You know me. You said it yourself. I’m not the kind of guy who goes to Paris on a whim or holds hands at dinner and… I don’t do all this clichéd romantic bullshit.”

Her knuckles whiten around the sheet. “Of course. You have three-ways in hot-air balloons.”

His expression shifts from hurt to hostility so quickly that Annie flinches as he snaps, “Exactly,” the hardness to his voice biting at her spine.

Jeff shucks on his jacket and Annie’s heart skitters in a fit of panic at how much closer he is to leaving, even though she should let him – that she should accept this really was the fling she wanted, that moments end and maybe everything will go back to normal.

Except somehow that seems impossible – now that the moment is here, stark and cold and very real – and she feels like she’s watching the control she’s worked so hard to knit together over the years completely unravel in front of her and _oh god_ , there’s absolutely nothing she can do to stop it.

“Are you going back to Heathrow or flying from Paris?”

Jeff tucks his passport into his jacket pocket, frowning at her question. “Paris.”

Annie nods, although she’s not sure why. “Well, I hope you have a safe journey.”

“Me too. Obviously.”

“And when you’re on the plane, remember to get up and walk around every hour, you know, in case of DVT.”

“Uh, o-kay.”

“Deep Vein Thrombosis, it’s a -”

“I know what it is.”

“Oh. Well. I’ve heard taking aspirin helps too.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Jeff smirks, though a little reluctantly. He scans the room, head slanting softly once his eyes come full circle, and rubs a palm against the back of his neck. “Are you gonna be okay?”

“Sure!” she squeaks hurriedly. “Lots more sights to see. You know me.”

Jeff squints at her, his lips pursed as he nods slowly, thoughtfully, and Annie wishes she really was a mind reader. She drops her gaze to the glare of the sheets too-white in the sunlight, willing her eyes not to fill with tears – _not now, not yet, just a little longer_ – as she listens to him wheel his suitcase to the door, the squeak of the handle as it opens.

“Annie.”

She blinks rapidly to dispel the stinging of her eyes. “Yes?”

As they watch each other the air settles with the silence that followed them all the way from the bookstore last night, and she hates it. Hates the way it crawls beneath her skin and stretches to all of her corners, making her limbs itch to fidget and punch the pillows or scream just so there’s some kind of noise.

Jeff shrugs, one hand gesturing at nothing until it slaps feebly against his thigh. His smile doesn’t reach the corners of his eyes the way she likes, the way she longs for now that it’s missing, but the meaning is there and Annie wills every muscle in her body to return the gesture, even though it hurts.

It’s not supposed to hurt.

The door shuts a minute later and the sound, followed by that silence so thick and lingering and _suffocating_ , has Annie rolling to the side and thrusting her face into his pillow.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **A/N:** Hellooooo. *Waves awkwardly* So...it's been a while, huh? Yikes. I really didn't mean to take so long to write this but time flies when I'm baking! I am so sorry. I'm the opposite of Batman. This started out as one massive chapter but I've decided to split it in two for easier reading. Huge thanks to Jess, Steph, Katya, Bethany...all of you who've offered support and advice. Seriously, you're all diamonds. Finally, if you're still following this, thank you so much for sticking with me. I heart you like Troy hearts Abed. Cookies and cwtches for all! :D

The room is gray now, sky dark with rain that trickles and taps against the glass as Annie curls around a pillow in bed, picking absentmindedly at the sharp end of a feather poking through the pillowcase. A double flash of lightning illuminates everything for just a second and Annie counts to five before she gives up, squeezing the pillow tight.

It smells like a musky mix of cologne and overpriced hair product.

Somewhere, in the distance, the thunder rumbles low followed by a roaring crack that makes her shiver, but Annie’s not sure what the count would have been.

Blinking blearily, eyes glazed and puffy, she rolls onto her back and wipes at her cheeks, rubbing at the tears there, though they dried a while ago now. She inhales a deep shuddery breath but it stutters uncomfortably in the base of her throat and there’s a momentary frisson of panic scuttling through her that she won’t be able to breathe and she’s going to die, naked and alone in a fancy Paris hotel room.

“Don’t be jaded,” she tells herself, out loud, as if the sound is more convincing.

Clutching at her heart she waits for the rapid thud to settle against her palm as she breathes in through her nose and out through her mouth, slow and steady, hopes the repetition of the action helps her to refocus again.

“Because it’s time for a new plan,” she says, trying to keep her voice lighter than she feels.

The clock on the bedside table blinks twelve continuously where the power must have gone out some time during the storm, and Annie grabs the phone instead, pressing 1 at the hum of the dialling tone and jolting “Oh!” when a man answers with a cheery “Réception” only a second later.

“Hi, I mean.” She coughs into her fist, voice still croaky from lack of use. “Quelle heure, um, s’il vous plait?”

“Il est onze heures, Mademoiselle.”

“What—eleven!” Annie yelps, and scrambles upright. “Um. Merci. Bye!”

The shrill ding of the phone against the cradle resonates in the silence for a moment, and Annie’s gaze flicks timidly to the empty hangers in the closet still open from when Jeff left earlier that morning. She flinches at the dark space and looks away.

Her eyes settle on the vanity table but the top is bare now that it’s not covered with Jeff’s facial products, the amount she teased him for endlessly because seriously, how many bottles does one guy need, and her lips curl slightly remembering his response.

“Gotta look after the money-maker, Annie. I regret nothing,” he’d said, catching her wrist and pressing her hand to his face with soft strokes and pats, murmuring, “Feels good, huh?” and “Just admit it, it’s like a damn baby!” as she tried to wriggle away, laughing as they collapsed in a tangled heap on the floor while Jeff recounted the merits of a good skincare routine. Annie had kissed his words away somewhere between exfoliate and moisturize but one kiss melted into another until they were still making out by the foot of the bed thirty minutes later and Annie had to concede that yes, “Okay, it feels _so_ good,” as Jeff grinned his victory and pinned her wrists above her head, mouthing and nuzzling across her skin until she shook breathlessly with so much _want_ and—

“Enough!” she snaps, the sound bouncing around the emptiness and ringing sharp in her ears.

Shuffling to sit on the edge of the bed, Annie watches the scrunch of her toes in the carpet as she decides what to do because she can’t stay here, not when the sheets still smell like the musk of him and the awareness of him lingers in every corner, drawing out details and memories of things it’s best she forgets now, and she just cannot waste another moment thinking about Jeff Winger. She’s already wasted enough of those, in study groups and lonely weekends and once an entire summer, and look where that got her.

 _“Annie, I think you might be reading into some things,”_ he’d said.

Another thread of lightning sparks white across the sky and for a moment the only sound is the tinny clang of raindrops against the table on the balcony outside. The memory of that rainy afternoon spent in bed with Jeff washes through her then, where they sat naked and sweaty against the headboard, passing a bottle of beer back and forth, taking little sips while they caught their breath and their skin cooled, sneaking glances at each other in the silence and smiling when their eyes met with excitement and awkwardness at the newness of whatever it was unfolding between them. All the while the rain persisted in a dim pitter-patter and the world moved on outside and, for once, Annie didn’t mind being left behind.

She glances at the door for the fourth, fifth time, barely holding her breath for a count of three before she shakes her head and huffs a breath, so soft the sound barely scratches the air.

“Yeah right, Annie, as if he’d come back for you,” she mutters, and wanders into the bathroom, squinting against the brightness as she lowers the height of the showerhead and turns on the tap. There’s something so detached and mechanical about her movements while she tries not to think of him and it wasn’t supposed to be like this, it wasn’t part of the plan.

From the moment she even considered its possibility, she thought this trip would be the making of her somehow. In all of her daydreams, she envisioned a new and improved Annie returning to Greendale in the fall, cultured, changed in some deep intrinsic way. Shirley might tell her how great she looks and Abed would say “Something’s different” but no one would know exactly what that was because it wasn’t something that could be labelled. It was an air, a grace in the way she held herself, a feeling.

The bathroom slowly clouds with steam, a filmy heat that licks at her skin and settles thick in her throat, and Annie feels different but not in the way she imagined. She shakes away that thought with a weary sigh that unfolds itself from the pit of her stomach, but as she reaches for the toothpaste her hand halts mid-air at the sight of Jeff’s toothbrush still sitting with hers in the glass next to the sink. She frowns at it for a long moment, wonders if he’s okay and whether he made his flight and _god_ , what if they can’t be friends now, what if things can’t be put back and does she even want them to? The pain of these thoughts whirl around her in a frenzy she’s just not ready for and she snatches his toothbrush in a burst of frustration, a high-pitched shriek through gritted teeth as she shoves it impulsively into the bottom of her toiletry bag.

Out of sight, out of mind.

“It was a fling, Annie,” she repeats, breathless. “Just a fling.”

A wave of emotion strangles her throat suddenly and Annie squeezes her eyes shut, pressing her fingertips against the tight line of her mouth to prevent its escape, bouncing through it desperately as she waits for the feeling to pass. He’s gone and it’s over and that’s, that’s what she wanted, right? Deep down she knows it’s for the best and maybe _that’s_ the difference she feels crawling inside, buzzing beneath her skin so much she almost itches with it.

Unclenching her fist and slowly opening her eyes, she blinks away the tears lining her eyelashes and watches the short decisive nod of her reflection before climbing into the shower.

 

~x~

 

Armed with her trusty umbrella and dressed for the rain in jeans and a hoodie, Annie makes her way out of the hotel. She’s still on auto-pilot at this point, not sure what to do or where to go exactly, her head still stuffy and blocked, and only realizes she forgot to eat when her stomach growls at the drifting scent of cocoa as she passes by a fancy chocolatier.

It’s probably lunchtime, now that she thinks about it, and she really needs to get it together already.

“This is not you, Annie. And neither is talking to yourself,” she finishes, ducking her chin and mouthing “Oh my god” as she hurries on.

It takes a fifteen-minute walk but she ends up at a small bakery tucked away on a quiet residential street. She buys a freshly baked croissant because it’s all she can stomach right now, and stands underneath the awning to shield herself from the drizzly patter of rain, the window behind her painted with different types of crusty bread and cakes. For a while she watches the endless drip drop of water from the scalloped edge of the canopy above with a strange kind of numbness, and eats straight from the paper bag, the pastry warm and greasy beneath her fingertips, and it’s no surprise her mind fills with thoughts of carbs and calories and how many crunches Jeff would need to do before bed to work it off if he was still here.

The last couple of nights he’d been aiming for fifty but Annie always wandered out of the bathroom in nothing but panties and what she hoped was a flirty smile, and he never managed anything beyond twenty five.

And even though she could kick herself for thinking it, she can’t help but wonder the number Jeff might have reached if it was someone else walking out of that bathroom, some other woman with amazing red hair and more worldly experience, maybe someone closer to his own age.

He always did have a problem with that — a problem that doesn’t just go away.

It’s reassuring, in a weird sort of way, because it _was_ strange that her age didn’t once seem to bother him on this trip, even though the only difference between now and home was a few thousand miles. If she’d let things continue, Jeff probably would’ve freaked out as soon as they got back to Greendale and reality and the prying judge-y eyes of everyone they knew, and then where would she be?

_What would become of her heart?_

The thought slices through her more bitterly than she was expecting and she nearly chokes as she swallows and tries not to think about how every mouthful now tastes like cardboard.

 

~x~

 

Halfway to the metro Annie remembers that she doesn’t need a new plan, she has an old one that Abed scribbled over with the plot of some dumb eighties movie the day before she left.

She’s been powered by a weary kind of aimlessness all morning, adrift in wallowing far too long for her liking — because she doesn’t wallow, she soldiers on — but it’s a different emotion that fires her direction now as she makes a quick detour back to the hotel.

Her purple notebook is still stuffed inside the bedside table from when they first arrived and Annie fists the air with a joyous “A-ha!” when she locates the list she compiled before her trip began, the one that started it all, the very reason why she’s there, and she knows then what she needs to do.

 

~x~

 

It’s gone two o’clock by the time Annie makes it across the city to the L’Open tour bus offices just along the street from the Palais Garnier Opera house; the mint green dome a pastel scoop of brightness against the muted sky.

She purchases a one-day bus pass from the ticket office and dashes into a nearby souvenir shop to keep dry and busy until the next bus arrives in thirty minutes.

The shop is mostly full of crap like ‘I heart Paris’ key rings and pens inscribed with mini Eiffel towers, and cheap t-shirts printed with sayings and phrases most likely lost in translation, but there are a couple of good things, here and there.

She already bought Troy and Abed those silly giant hats in London so she buys a black beret for Britta — very Che Guevara, she thinks — and a beautiful scarf for Shirley, the blue and lilac silk dotted with soft pink lilies in the style of Monet. The thought of her friends makes her smile, makes her chest ache a little less than before and _she can do this, she’ll be okay_ , _yes Sir!_

And though Jeff had talked about maybe redecorating his apartment just the other day — Annie had suggested a single wall of color like turquoise to offset the gray and much to her surprise he didn’t hate it — she has to resist buying an Eiffel tower print that she knows would look great on the wall above his TV.

They’ve never been gift-buying friends anyway.

 

~x~

 

A couple of hours later Annie sits on the bottom deck of the tour bus, her finger pressed permanently on the volume dial of her audio guide as she struggles to hear the description of the city. She winces at the high-pitched peal and crackle as she fiddles with the headphone connection on the back of the seat in front, huffing a breath of annoyance when it loses sound, barely catching something about Marie Antoinette as they pass the huge Egyptian obelisk at the Place de la Concorde.

After three minutes of nothing but white noise Annie gives up, mumbling “Well, crap” as she tugs the headphones out of her ears and wraps the cheap green wire in a coil around her hand as she slumps back against her seat. She thought a three hour bus tour to check off some points on her travel list was a solid plan with focus and no time for wallowing, but the rain in the air and the body heat of everyone on-board misting the glass doesn’t make for much sightseeing, not that Annie knows what she’s looking at anyway. Originally she’d planned to read up on Paris while she was in London, maybe take a guidebook with her at dinner so she didn’t look and feel so alone, but that was a well-practiced trick she hadn’t once needed to employ because she wasn’t ever alone.

Until now.

She sighs and wipes a circle in the condensation on the window, rubbing her wet palm against her jeans a couple times, and lets the scenery drift past in a watery glaze. The city is as beautiful as she always thought it would be, as magical as yesterday and the day before that, but right now she can’t help but feel, well, bored of it all. The thought jabs her like some kind of electric shock, forcing her upright in her seat at the memory it disturbs, of her mother saying “Only boring people are bored, Annie!” one summer as a child when she wandered inside fed up of playing alone on the street.

Annie tightens her jaw at the reminder of her mother’s tone and the loneliness she felt tunneling inside when she was too young to know what it meant but old enough to know that it wasn’t nice and she didn’t want to feel that way, not now, not ever, and the flit of her eyes to the empty seat beside her is involuntary at this point.

She shifts slightly, as if the action could displace the unsettled, off-balance feeling looming inside her, too aware of the space and the cold down her side, and she can’t _not_ think of him, however much she tries.

Oh my gosh, she’s tried.

Jeff would be playing Candy Crush on his phone if he was here, muttering under his breath about the pointlessness of the outing because of the crappy weather and “Fuck this fucking level 65!” and things that made her eyes roll until they hurt from the strain. But none of it mattered, not really, because his thigh was pressed against hers in a warm solid reminder that he was there even though he didn’t want to be, and she wasn’t alone or bored and everything he did or said made her insides curl with a delicious sort of contentment she was sure she’d never feel with anyone, even when he was being annoying and she wanted to shove his phone into places the sun didn’t shine.

She smiles remembering his look of surprise when she told him as much, the way his brow rose and his lips quirked to murmur “Kinky” all low and husky, how his laughter had followed her when she simply rolled her eyes and walked away, and she loved that she had the power to do that — surprise and delight him all at once. The way Jeff looked at her sometimes, all the time lately, thrilled her in a way nothing ever had and oh, she misses it, she really misses it.

Misses _him_.

The bus slows and jolts to another stop and Annie tears her gaze away from the empty seat, letting it flutter to her fingers throbbing bright pink and turning almost blue where she’s unknowingly tightened the headphone wire with every thought, and maybe a bus ride was a bad idea.

 

~x~

 

The traffic circling the Arc de Triomphe is barely dulled by the thick stone walls of the monument as Annie pauses at the base of the spiral staircase winding up inside. She stares vacantly at the steps ahead and jerks at the rush of three young boys running past, one screaming, “Last one to the top is a LOOOOOSER!”

Her pulse has barely settled when a man shouts, “BOYS, stay where I can see you!” as he nudges past Annie with his backpack, throwing a “Kids, eh?” in her direction, and bounding up the steps with an eagerness she remembers so well.

The noise of their footsteps resonates all around them and Annie grasps the railing solidly as she finally musters the energy to move, steeling her focus on the metal-plated steps worn almost white beneath her. If she makes it to the top she can cross another achievement from her list and that’s something.

That _is_ something. It _has_ to be.

Glancing upwards the higher she climbs, the perspective of the staircase above spins and curves like the shell of a snail, and only serves to remind her of the stupid artwork Jeff once moaned about in London and she just cannot catch a break.

 _“Anyone can cut out_ _colored_ _pieces of paper, stick them on a canvas and call it a snail,”_ he’d said.

Her mind jumps to the dinner they’d had in a restaurant close to the Tate Modern, where they’d shared a bottle of cheap wine that made her shudder with every sip, and while they waited for the check Jeff had started to arrange little jagged squares torn unevenly from their unused napkins into a snail shape on the table. It was probably more out of boredom at first, or maybe just something to do with his hands instead of messing around on his phone like usual, but it soon became a joke about all the lame art they’d just seen and how he could do better because he’s awesome at everything, and Annie had grinned at the ridiculousness of it all.

“I guess you could say you _snailed_ it?” she’d giggled, but Jeff had paused to blink at her flatly, barely holding the expression before the smile swam roguish and wide across his face a second later and Annie felt a rush of affection through her veins, the kind that had her hands twisting into her sundress just to stop herself from reaching across the table and pulling him to her mouth, and it wasn’t the first time she’d had to do that.

Instead she arched one eyebrow, all mischievous with intent, and sent his so-called ‘art’ fluttering across the table and into his lap with one harsh breath, gasping “Ooops!” into her fingertips and breaking into a cheeky grin. Jeff had chuckled and caught her wrist as she straightened to pull away, but there was something more than flirty teasing in his eyes that deeply startled her, made her insides feel like those very pieces of tissue, fluttering away, lost, in all directions.

The need she felt for him drew her smile away because she was trying hard not to think about that, about how much she really wanted him, and how right it all felt. She was trying so hard to be light and breezy and loosey goosey and in that one moment she felt the opposite of all those things.

Jeff seemed to notice the shift between them and they watched each other intently, both aware of her pulse thumping heavily against the press of his thumb, and by the time Jeff let go and they finally looked away, the table next to them had been cleared twice.

She reasoned it insignificant at the time, so low on their list of moments, but it would be their private thing now, something uniquely theirs that no one else would understand, and Annie’s instantly annoyed at herself for the reminder and the smile it draws to her lips.

She wonders if it will always be that way now, no matter where she goes.

All day she’s ran from him but even now she can feel him everywhere, the phantom tread of his hands from last night and the hot print of his lips up her spine, like he branded her, burned her in some way, and maybe he had. Maybe he branded her long ago.

Stumbling out onto the observation deck 300 steps later, Annie takes a deep shuddering breath against the freshness of the wind now that the rain has stopped, the chill cooling the beads of sweat lining her temples making her shiver slightly. Blinking through the struggle to find her equilibrium, the city lights swirl as she wanders to the edge and steps up onto the viewing platform that looks out across the city and beyond.

She’s not sure if the earth is spinning or if it’s her, not sure of anything, and the slow unravelling of everything from the minute she woke up to find Jeff’s suitcase on his side of the bed — and maybe even before then, maybe from the moment he looked at her in that tiny dust-glazed bookshop across the Seine with something more than lust in his eyes — has Annie delving into her purse, feeling out the contents as she fumbles for her phone.

Her mouth twitches this way and that as she draws up the contacts on the screen and scrolls the list lighting her face and fingertips brightly in the darkness. She shakes her head briskly and cradles the phone to her chest for a moment, chewing her bottom lip as she looks out at the stream of traffic on the Champs-Élysées below, the rear-view car lights red and blurred out of focus.

It’s the thought of him though, the relentless reminder of everything he said and did and how he made her feel, how he _always_ makes her feel, that has Annie jabbing the call button before she can change her mind, her pulse quickening with each ring, the circling tone a background to the symphony of her thoughts in a frantic rush of _please pick up, don’t pick up, please pick up, don’t_ —

“Hello?”

Annie clasps the phone tight. “B—Britta?”

“Annie! Is that you? Where are you? What time is it? Did you go to Amsterdam like I said?”

“Uh no, it’s...” She glances at her watch and recoils slightly, blinking dazedly at the sky bleeding an inky darkness onto the rooftops around her. “I’m in Paris. I never. Amsterdam wasn’t on my list.”

“Oh, too bad. I just wondered if that one-legged trombone player was still busking by the canal. What _was_ his name?” Britta clicks her tongue while she thinks. “Eh, I can’t remember. That whole trip is kinda hazy now that I think about it. _Aaaanyway_ ,” she hurries to add, “Paris is cool. Have you been to the Latin Quarter?”

“Um. Maybe? Where is it?”

“Damn. Bluff called,” she mutters under her breath. “Uh, I’m not sure exactly. But I know it has some great bars and restaurants and don’t eat Daniel’s cat treats!” The line whirrs with muffled static until Britta continues hesitantly, her voice almost shy when she says, “Sorry, Troy says hi! He’s, uh, here.”

“Aww,” Annie murmurs, though her heart sinks at the longing rushing through her at the sound and thought of home.

“No! No aww’s. We’re just. We’re hanging out, very casual, no biggie. Troy’s meeting Abed later to go—OW!” There’s a thunk as if the phone has been dropped or snatched away, followed by some kind of commotion in the background where Annie catches Troy mumbling something about “Secrets” and then nothing but whispers until Britta says, “Sorry!” on a squeaky rush of breath.

“What was that about?”

“No idea,” Britta says on a heavy exhale, the breath whistling through the speaker. “What were we talking about again?”

“It doesn’t matter. You’re busy. I actually don’t know what I was thinking—I’m. I’m just gonna go.”

“No, I’ve got time. Is everything okay?” Britta pauses for a second and when she speaks again her voice is verging on excited as she asks, “Is this a cry for help? Because I’m good with those. Did you run out of money? Been there, done that, got about 50 t-shirts. It’s pretty much a rite of passage in your twenties. The only thing is, I _kinda_ spent my last fifty dollars on cat medicine but I’m sure Pierce would wire you some money. Not that I’m advocating reliance on a man to save you or anything but—”

“No, it’s nothing like that...” Annie trails off unsurely and frowns into the darkness, the bright lights on the Eiffel Tower a hazy flickering dance of gold in her peripheral vision.

“Annie,” Britta starts slowly, tentative almost. “You can talk to me. You know that, right?”

There’s an unexpected gentleness in Britta’s voice, like she knows she could break at any moment and needs to be handled with the greatest care, and it tugs harder at the emotion Annie’s felt simmering all day, wrenching it out from where she buried it in the pit of her stomach until it flows and swells and burns the back of her throat, and she gasps at the rawness of it all.

“I don’t know,” she whimpers, uncertain, and blinks against the sting of tears beading in the corners of her eyes.

“Come on,” Britta sing-songs. “Unburden your burden, Annie. Just let it go, _Jo_. A problem shared is a problem shared.”

“Halved, Britta. It’s halved.”

“I know!” she snaps, indignant and abashed if history is anything to go by.

One of the silver viewfinders catches the moonlight then, a shiny glimmer that draws Annie’s gaze to a couple nearby, both laughing as they fight over who gets to use it first, and all she can think of is the weight of Jeff’s warmth so solid behind her, the nudge of his chin against her hair as he encircled her in his arms and how she fit just so. It’s nothing but a sense memory now but the realness of it is overwhelming and all Annie wants to do is curl into herself, fold the hurt over and inside and never come out again because the moment is gone now and she’ll never get that back.

“I think. I think I’ve made a mistake,” Annie admits, grabbing onto the solid spike of the railing in front of her, feeling her body sag now that she’s finally acknowledged that tiny voice niggling in the back of her mind all day, growing louder by the second until the thought was all-encompassing.

“But I’m not sure if I want it to be a mistake so much that I’m ignoring the possibility that it’s not actually a mistake and it was the right thing to do, at least, in the long run. And they say sometimes it’s better to hurt a little now instead of a lot later, right? I’ve heard that before. And I mean, you’re the last person I should be talking to about this but I don’t have anyone else and I just.” She pauses to take a shaky breath, voice wavering. “I really need a friend right now,” she finishes quietly, closing her eyes for a moment, trying hard to ignore the tear sliding down the side of her face and dried just as quickly by the wind.

“Annie, what—”

“SomethinghappenedwithJeff,” she says in a rush, and winces and hunches her shoulders in wait.

The line is quiet enough for all other sounds to spill through — traffic and laughter and a mix of accents lilting the air in a constant reminder of how far she is from home — and Annie pulls the phone away from her ear to check the connection, bringing it back and whispering “Britta?” hesitantly, her whole body tense with nervous anticipation.

“I can slash his tyres if you want me to,” Britta says at last.

“Wait.” Annie’s shoulders drop slightly. “What?”

“Or maybe I could break into his apartment and replace all of his expensive toiletries with bargain brands and he’ll know _something’s_ different but he’ll never know _what_ exactly and it’ll really annoy him. You know, really get him where it hurts.”

“No! Britta! He didn’t— Nothing bad happened, at least not what you think. And I don’t need you to defend me, although that is kind of...sweet that you would.”

“Hey, just doing it for the sisterhood.”

“This is _so_ not the reaction I was expecting from you,” Annie admits, more to herself than anything.

“Oh, come on Annie,” Britta says then, her voice too sweet and condescending for Annie’s liking, and it feels like the equivalent of a head-pat when she adds, “These things happen.”

“Not to me they don’t!”

“Yeah, well, you spend a lot of time alone with someone you’re attracted to... It’s not rocket science. Plus you tend to do crazy things when you’re in a foreign country. BOB!” Britta shouts suddenly. “His name was Bob!”

“W—what...?”

“The guy, the musician from Amsterdam. His name was Bob. Trombone Bob! Man, that was really annoying me.”

“You do a lot of crazy things in a foreign country, huh?”

“Hey! He played that trombone beautifully.”

Despite herself Annie splutters a laugh for the first time that day, catching the sound against her fingertips, and to her surprise Britta joins in. It’s pretty half-hearted on both ends at first but it’s noise enough for Troy to wonder, “What’s so funny?” in the background, and they both laugh harder. Soon enough the sound ebbs away, leaving behind the muted voices of the crowd and the strays of car horns rising up from the street and carried through the wind.

“It wasn’t crazy,” Annie says finally, sobering a little.

“So what’s the problem? I thought you liked Jeff and wow. _So_ not the conversation I thought I’d be having when I woke up this morning. Kinda wish I was still high.”

“I, I do like Jeff. I’ve always...” She fingers the zip on her hoodie and huffs out a piteous breath. “That’s obvious, right?”

“As the day is long.”

“Don’t make jokes, Britta.”

“I know, I know,” she mumbles childishly. “I’m bad at it.”

“No,” Annie says with sigh, gesturing weakly at nothing, her hand falling with a feeble slap against her thigh. “I just. I had this whole plan, you know? I knew where I was going and what I wanted to do and I thought everything was going to be perfect. And then Jeff showed up and everything got so messed up but in a good way, like he actually made it better and then I ruined it.”

“ _You_ ruined it?” Britta repeats, surprised, making a noise halfway between a snort and a laugh. “Chyeah right. You don’t have to lie to me, Annie. I know exactly what Jeff Winger’s like.”

“I’m not lying, Britta. He— I panicked, okay? He asked me out and I said no because this is Jeff we’re talking about and as you said, we all know _exactly_ what Jeff’s like, and I just never expected any of it! The whole thing caught me by surprise.”

“Hey, I get it, Annie. I followed Radiohead on tour for like a year. It’s kind of the same thing.”

Annie blinks blankly a few times before her face scrunches in confusion and she mouths a silent “What the hell” away from the mouthpiece. “How, _how_ is that the same thing?” she asks, and she’s pretty sure she can hear the sound of Britta rolling her eyes.

“What I’m saying is, it wasn’t until I was listening to them sing _High and Dry_ at the Pinkpop festival in the Netherlands, knee-deep in mud and soaking wet — How’s that for irony, huh? — that I realized I’d followed Radiohead on tour for a year, Annie _._ I’d wasted a _whole_ year. Sometimes these things hit you when you least expect.”

“Strangely,” Annie drawls. “That makes sense. I mean, it doesn’t help me AT ALL but it makes sense. I guess...?”

“ _Yeah_ it does,” Britta scoffs, like she’s crazy to even doubt it. “So, you know, it’s okay to not have figured it out. Jeff will just have to deal with it. _You_ set the speed here, not him. You got that?”

Annie nods even though Britta can’t see her. “That’s not really what this is about,” she admits, picking at the railing in front of her, the rust of the wrought iron flaking rough against her fingertips and still slightly wet from the earlier rain.

“Okay, so what is it about then?” Britta asks, serious now, all cut-the-crap-mode activated. “Why’d you really call me, Annie?”

“Because! Because I want you to tell me that I did the right thing!” Annie confesses, the words strangled inside tumbling from her finally. “That Jeff is a commitment-phobe and he doesn’t do love or long term relationships. That he’ll only hurt me in the long run and I was right to push him away. That none of this was real!”

“Whoa, okay. Uh. Is this one of those mind tricks where I’m supposed to tell you what you want to hear even if it’s a lie?”

“Yes. No. I DON’T KNOW!” She stomps her foot through the bite of agitation. “You _don’t_ think Jeff is afraid of commitment?” she asks incredulously.

“Of course I do,” Britta says. “It’s basically his M.O. The guy is ridiculous.”

“Oh,” Annie murmurs, hating the way the disappointment swells inside her and her stomach actually sinks. “Well. Exactly. There you have it.”

“But, and this is my opinion as a licensed Psych major—”

“Unlicensed, Britta. _Unlicensed_.”

“Did Jeff tell you to say that? Whatever. I’m the most qualified to give you this advice. I’m basically a therapist. Just ask Abed.”

“BRITTA!” she squawks, because she’s losing patience now, feels the bristle of frustration just beneath her skin. “This phone call is costing me a lot of money and I’m as poor as you right now.”

“Okay. Look. Yes, Jeff is all those things and probably a few more neuroses we haven’t figured out yet, if only he’d let me. I could probably write a really good paper on everything that’s wrong with him emotionally. He’s a douchebag a lot of the time. He barely puts any effort into anything. His whole personality is based around guarding himself and he cuts and runs the minute things get complicated. BUT—”

“What?” Annie whispers, and holds her breath, her whole body tense again.

“But you love him anyway,” Britta finishes, sounding like she’d drop a mic if she could, and Annie’s not sure whether to laugh or cry.

“That’s...” She swallows against the lump in her throat, her heart stuttering and the heat rushing to her cheeks because she’s never let herself go that far, never put that ache into words for fear of, well, everything.

Because she’s spent three years now letting her thoughts drift to fantasy where Jeff’s concerned, imagining all the ways they could be great together even though she assumed the reality of it all could never possibly compare and that was okay, it was safe, fantasies never hurt anyone.

But somewhere along the way she’d collected a few knocks to her heart and mixed them with all of her doubts and fears and insecurities into some twisted form of logic, and pushed him away at the first sign of something real because _“Relationships are complicated”_ and reality has never been good to her until now, and maybe she was guarding herself too.

Somehow, unknowingly, she’d turned herself into Jeff Winger and he didn’t want that.

“ _Don’t be like me_ ,” he’d said.

Annie gasps another shaky breath, clenches her eyes closed, as tight as she can, just for a moment.

“That’s never been the issue,” she admits finally, with a rueful little laugh, sniffling and blinking back the tears again. “I think. I mean, I tried to deny it but I’ve always known what’s in my heart. I just don’t know what’s in his.”

“Well, there’s only one way to find out, right?” Britta suggests, and Annie doesn’t really have the energy to disagree.

Instead, she takes a measured breath and finally looks out at the city around her, the lights flickering on in windows as far as the eye can see, the Eiffel Tower still lit with thousands of twinkling lights, and it’s true that she doesn’t really know how Jeff feels, beyond his attraction to her. She doesn’t have that bone-deep certainty yet and maybe she never will. Maybe nothing will compare to the fantasy, maybe London and Paris is all they’ll ever be.

But she owes it to herself to find out. And, after everything that’s happened between them, she owes it to Jeff too.

“I should go,” Annie says then, her voice a near-whisper, and Britta’s silent for a long moment.

“Are you okay?”

“I will be,” she says, and for the first time that day she feels like she really means it. “Britta?”

“Yeah?”

“Can we make a deal to never talk about Jeff ever again?”

“Oh my god, YES!” Britta shouts in breathy relief. “Pinky swearsies this is the first and last time. We can just pretend this conversation never happened.”

“I’d like that,” Annie says with a huffy laugh, wiping at her cheeks for mascara runs and straightening her spine. “I’m still glad I called though.”

“You are?”

“Yes, really,” she says, and the smile pressing at her cheeks feels like a relief, shifting some of the ache and weight inside because she really knows what she needs to do now and she’s ready. “You helped a lot.”

“I—I did?” Britta asks, her voice high with a disbelief that only lasts for a second. “ _YEAH_ I did. Woo! BRITTA FOR THE WIN!”


	12. Chapter 12

In the parking lot at Denver International Airport, Jeff sits in his car. He rolls his neck side to side, stretching out the tension there, and swipes his hands down his face before pressing them around the steering wheel, releasing a breath heavy enough to graze his knuckles. Throwing his head back against the headrest he blinks against his thoughts, eyes puffy and scratchy with tiredness and thirteen hours of recycled cabin air.

Everything feels a little... surreal.

Early that morning he woke up in Paris, inexplicably pressed against Annie’s back, his nose somehow squished against her head so that his first mindful breath was the scent of her hair, and the only certainty unfolding frantically inside of him was that he had to go and he couldn’t leave fast enough.

On the flight home he drank cheap scotch from plastic cups and winked gamely at the stewardess as she flirted over headphones and miniature bags of pretzels, and he almost fooled himself that nothing had happened. The weight in his chest had always been there and it was just another flight and nothing had changed.

But he knows things now — things he feels stupid for noticing — like the look of Annie’s sleepy-eyed smile first thing in the morning after she nuzzled the sensitive spot below his ear, and the fiery press of her fingers against the dip of his lower spine as she shuddered underneath him, or the tune she hummed every time she brushed her teeth that made him roll his eyes. And it’s these thoughts that permeate everything now, like a lingering scent too slow to fade, and he can’t even close his eyes or brush his damn teeth without thinking of her and she doesn’t even want him.

His grip tightens until it shakes from the pressure and it takes him a minute to mutter an irritated “Get it together” as he turns the ignition and guns the engine hard.

The heat is a hazy line on the road ahead and Jeff blinks in rapid succession, yawning loudly a few times in an effort to keep awake. He wants nothing more than to go home and sleep, forget this day ever happened, but he has a flash of Annie sitting across from him at the restaurant her first night in London, mumbling through a cute squeaky yawn about dealing with jet lag by adapting to the time zone, and so Jeff figures he’s got another six hours before it’s reasonable for him to go to sleep without feeling like he’s morphed into Pierce.

Annie’s probably asleep now, he thinks, given the eight hour time difference; curled up on her side, the pale curve of her shoulder exposed above the sheet and the bone there he liked to kiss while he watched her mouth turn into a lazy smile, and Jeff accelerates harder at another reminder he didn’t want or need. He taps his thumbs restlessly on the wheel before switching on the radio and turning the volume as high as his ears can stand.

 

~x~

 

It’s another hour of stop-start traffic and losing the will to live before Jeff makes it to the liquor aisle in his local grocery, balancing a basket in one hand while he plucks a bottle of Macallan 12 from one of the shelves.

If he has to stay awake, he doesn’t want to be sober for it.

A scrawny blonde-haired teen with ‘Barry’ written on his name badge strolls past murmuring “Good choice, man!” and Jeff eyes him incredulously, snapping “Uh, _I know_ ” at the back of his head and glaring at him until he disappears.

He curses “Youths” under his breath as he pivots the other way, only to stop at the sight of Abed standing there, watching him curiously as he bites the end of a strawberry Twizzler.

“Abed,” he says flatly, though he feels a little thrown by the appearance of his friend, here of all places. “Walk quieter why don’t you?”

“Sorry. Annie keeps telling me I shouldn’t sneak up on people. I’ll work on it.”

Jeff’s thought of Annie on and off all day but hearing her name, out loud, is like a fire poker to his chest, stoking his thoughts of her and everything that’s happened, and he doesn’t want to go down that road, not now, not ever. He pats Abed on the shoulder, muttering “Good thing, buddy, you do that” as he starts towards the next aisle.

He’s not surprised when Abed follows because _of course_ he does.

“How was London?” he asks, pausing to straighten a display of boxed wine, nodding once he’s satisfied with the alignment. “A lot happened while you were away. Pierce got lost in his mansion. Shirley invented three new sandwiches and if she forces you to try them just save yourself and admit they all taste good. Oh, and I now have one thousand children with Hilda. It’s a big milestone. We’re happy.” He pauses, tilts his head. “Don’t tell Troy.”

“That’s fascinating, Abed. Thanks.”

“You’re welcome. You didn’t answer my question though.”

“Where _is_ Troy?” Jeff asks, pretending to look interested in a can of beets while he waits for an elderly woman with blue hair to pass with her grocery cart. “You guys are usually joined at the hip. Trying something new? I’m so proud.”

Abed blinks once, takes another slow bite of his candy before he points it at him. “You’re doing that thing where you answer a question with a question, which means you don’t want to answer it. Message received.”

“I...” Jeff starts to protest but sighs at the earnestness in his friend’s eyes. “Thanks.”

“You’ll have to confide in someone, Jeff. Eventually.”

“If this is another ‘You have to give your heart to someone’ speech, I don’t want to hear it.”

“It wasn’t,” Abed says. “But it’s interesting that you came to that conclusion.”

“It’s not interesting,” Jeff snaps, feeling the panic curdle in his chest, although he’s not sure why. “It’s the complete opposite of interesting. It’s—”

A loud and slightly pitchy announcement about broken glass on aisle seven comes through the PA system then and, thankfully, Abed lets it slide.

“I just meant that it’s important to talk to someone when something’s bothering you. At least that’s what Britta says.”

“Great. I go away for a couple weeks and Britta’s already got you buying her Psycho bullcrap. Abed.” He grabs his shoulders solidly. “You’re better than this.”

“I know. But it makes Britta feel good about herself so I’m okay with it. It’s not like she’s telling me things I didn’t know. I’ve seen a lot of therapists over the years and they all seem to follow the same script. It’s predictable and boring.”

“For the last time, Britta’s not a therapist.”

“But she is our friend.”

Jeff sighs, rolling his head to stare at the ceiling, searching for the strength to deal with this today, of all days. “I really hate it when I can’t argue with you, Abed.”

“I know. You’re pretty predictable too.”

They veer into the fresh produce section then, where Jeff eyes a large bag of spinach and Abed picks up a zucchini and stares at it with all the inquisitiveness of a confused child. He does this with a few other items too, sniffing a sweet potato and poking at the different types of squash available while Jeff decides what he needs for his breakfast smoothies.

Despite the miles he racked up walking every day, and the handful of crunches he managed before bed, his diet suffered a lot while he was away and he really needs to detox to get back on track.

It was fun though, while it lasted.

The thought has him frowning at nothing in particular in the middle of the aisle, and he knows Abed has noticed, knows it’s seconds before he makes a comment about the tick in his jaw, followed by an all-knowing “Something’s wrong” but then Troy’s panicked voice floats towards them, calling Abed’s name, and Jeff sends up a silent thanks for the distraction.

He _really_ needs the distraction right now.

“Abed!” Troy shouts again, louder now as he rounds the corner, making an exaggerated face of relief when he spots his friend. “You’re supposed to tell me to count if we play Hide and Seek. You don’t just run off. Annie explained this!”

He jumps off the back of his grocery cart, gracefully spinning to prevent it from careening into a display of apples.

“WHOA. That was a close one. Though I think the clean up on aisle seven was my fault,” he admits with a wince. “I panicked when I couldn’t find you.”

“Did the jar of hotdogs survive?” Abed asks, eyeing their cart.

“No,” Troy says sadly, bereft, as if someone has actually died. “Sorry buddy.”

Abed moves his head in a slow turn side to side, a faraway look in his eyes as he breathes, “They never saw it coming.”

“Oh my god,” Jeff mutters, rolling his eyes. “You know, I would say I missed this but I’d be lying.”

The sound of his voice seems to pull Troy out of his tunnelled world where no one else exists but Abed, and he throws Jeff a wide beaming smile before he catches himself and reins in his excitement to a muted ‘grown-up’ nod.

“Jeff. ‘Sup! When did you get back?”

“A couple hours ago. Just here for some essentials and then I’m going home to sleep. Uninterrupted,” he hints. “For days.”

Troy and Abed both stare at his grocery basket and then back at his face in perfect synchronicity.

“Scotch and spinach?” Abed asks.

Troy looks confused. “Essentials?”

“I haven’t got the eggs yet,” Jeff mutters defensively.

“Wow. Your stomach must hate you man.”

“Can it, _Buttered Noodles_. You’re one to talk.” Jeff gestures at their cart filled with giant bags of chips, pretzels and kettle corn, bottles of soda and bags of ice. He picks up a pack of balloons and stares at them bemused for a second before tossing them back. “Seriously, what the hell is all this crap? Let me guess. Pierce is finally turning five.”

“I wish. No. We’re throwing Annie a Welcome Home party on Saturday,” Troy beams, distracted suddenly by a giant red sign advertising cut-price melons. “Or a ‘Look Annie we didn’t burn down the apartment or go into your room and touch any of your stuff while you were away yay for us’ celebration.”

“But that’s just a working title,” Abed adds quickly.

Jeff nods slowly, annoyed by that stupid nervous flutter sparking through him again. He thought he had a few days before he had to see Annie again — enough time to drown this weird ache twisting deep in the pit of his chest with a few litres of alcohol, maybe think about what he’ll say to her, plan a speech about friendship or something and _sure Annie, everything’s fine, why wouldn’t it be_ but now...

“Annie’s coming home, huh?” he asks, trying to sound uninterested.

“Uh, of course she is, Jeff. You think she’d stay in Europe forever?” Troy scoffs, though his eyes widen slowly at the thought. “Wait. She’s not... She _wouldn’t_ —”

“Don’t worry. Annie wouldn’t do that,” Abed says, watching Troy’s shoulders settle in relief. “She’s a creature of habit.”

“You never know, Abed. Annie might surprise you.” Jeff’s mouth tightens a little. “She does that a lot.”

“No, she doesn’t. She knows I don’t like surprises.”

“Whatever. I’m done here.”

“You should come to the party, Jeff.”

“Oh, I would but I don’t want to. Sorry about that.”

“Duuuuude!” Troy looks up from cradling a couple of melons against his chest. “Annie will cry her Tears of Doom if you’re not there—”

“I highly doubt that.”

“—and then Shirley will cry and that makes baby Jesus cry, and then I’ll cry and I really don’t want to cry anymore, Jeff. Britta made me listen to NPR for like three hours and it was so boring I have no more manly tears left to give.” Troy’s lip wobbles at the reminder until he looks down and smiles to himself at the way the fruit is cupped in his hands.

“Compelling, but I’m gonna have to pass.”

Jeff moves to walk around them but Abed steps in his path, his eyes focused unflinchingly.

“Did you and Annie have a fight?”

“What?” He scoffs, a very un-cool sounding _Pssssh_ in the back of his throat. “No.”

“Because you’re acting like you do when you guys fall out about something.”

“Abed. I don’t want to talk about this.”

“I’ll take that as a yes, then.”

“Stop analyzing me!”

“I’m not. Based on observation, I’m applying the context of previous behaviors to predict new ones. It’s my thing.”

“I’m gonna murder Britta,” Jeff grits out.

“This has nothing to do with Britta,” Abed says, pointing his finger to the ceiling like he does when he’s about to launch into a list of movies or the exact times Pierce goes to the bathroom, and Jeff is so not in the mood for this shit.

“Oh, would you look at that.” He makes an exaggerated show of checking his watch. “I just remembered. I don’t care.”

“I think you do. We’ll discuss it on Saturday.”

“No, we won’t,” he drawls flatly as he walks away.

“7pm,” Abed calls just as Troy sing-songs, “Dress fancy!”

“And bring beer because we have no money.”

“I CAN’T HEAR YOU.”

“Troy and Abed planning _parrrties_!”

It’s an achievement, really, to reach the end of the aisle and not roll his eyes.

 

~x~

 

Jeff finishes his shopping in record time, considering it a win when he manages to sneak out of the store unnoticed by Troy and Abed trying to weigh each other at the self-service checkouts. He’s finished loading his groceries in the trunk when he gets a text from Britta saying, ‘ _wE NEED 2 TALK HAIRGEL!!’_ immediately followed by one from Shirley inviting him over for coffee now that he’s back. He frowns at his phone for a moment because he didn’t send out a news alert for his homecoming, but then his mouth puckers slowly in realization.

“Abed,” he mutters, low and dangerous through gritted teeth as he types _‘Jetlagged rain check’_ in reply.

Only Shirley gets a smiley face.

 

~x~

 

The air is stale when Jeff eventually keys into his apartment, dumps his suitcase by the couch and the groceries on the kitchen bar. He tosses his keys back and forth, sets them down with a jangle and takes a long look around.

Everything is exactly how he left it and Jeff’s not sure why he expected otherwise.

With a shrug he starts to sift through a pile of forgotten mail but the quiet draws in on him, nipping uncomfortably at his skin in a way he should be used to by now, except he’s not, not anymore. Not after days of Annie filling that void with chatter and laughter and the cute way she sort of bounces through her walk when she’s excited, and the relief practically skips in Jeff’s chest when he notices the red blink of five new messages on his answering machine.

He busies himself while he listens, putting away the groceries, gagging as he drains the carton of lumpy skim milk he’d mistakenly left in the fridge, and opening a couple of windows to freshen the air.

There are two _“Call me!”_ messages from his mom, one from Shirley relaying another instalment about her neighbor who she thinks is having an affair with her Pastor and _“I just know it, that skinny bitch is going straight to hell!”_ and one from Dean Pelton asking about the position of his bedroom wall in relation to the apartment next door.

Jeff looks at his bedroom slowly, confused by the implication as the final message beeps to play.

“Winger, old buddy.”

His gaze bites back wide-eyed.

“I got the number of that William Winger you were after a few weeks ago. Alan would kill me if he knew I was helping you out so if anyone asks, you didn’t get it from me. Ciao!”

Arms falling limp to his sides, Jeff’s whole body seizes with shock as he listens to the message and the phone number that follows, all sound slipping away except for a shrill ring in his ears.

The machine beeps and clicks to finish but it’s minutes before Jeff manages to blink himself out of his mental haze, slapping each side of his face to make sure he’s awake and this is real and not some twisted jet lag-induced hallucination.

He’s not sure what’s preferable.

He wanders into the kitchen, all movement mechanical at this point, and pops open the new bottle of scotch, throwing the cap blindly, barely hearing it crack and roll against the floor as he takes a too-generous swig and coughs into his fist with a near splutter when it catches and burns _._

The adrenaline is really pumping now, making his face hot and his muscles twitchy, but somehow Jeff still has the presence of mind to set the bottle down carefully. He scrambles for the notepad and pen by the landline, grateful that Annie had put them there the last time he had the group over for dinner because _“If you’re gonna have a landline, you should really keep a notepad to write down messages, Jeff. It’s called being organized.”_ It’s the last thought he needs right now but it calms him momentarily, takes the edge off in a way the alcohol didn’t.

Blowing out a fortifying breath he moves back to the answering machine, his finger hovering above the replay button that takes him two minutes to press.

He listens to the message four times to make sure he’s written the number correctly, scoring the pen around the digits over and over each time, darkening the lines of ink and deepening the realization until the frenzy of his movements dents the paper and—

“Holy fuck,” he says, the sound loud and hollow around his apartment, and in the silence that follows an irrepressible feeling bubbles up inside of him desperately, blistering the back of his throat in a way he doesn’t quite understand.

Or maybe he understands too fucking well.

Pacing back and forth, Jeff mentally runs through all the people he could call but there’s really only one person he wants to talk to right now and he grits his teeth at the thought, glaring confusedly at the pen still in his hand before throwing it to clatter in the kitchen sink.

Aside from his mom, Annie’s the only one who knows he started looking for his dad and now his number is staring back at him in this crazy scribble of black ink like it hasn’t been twenty-five fucking years, and he’s not sure what to do but she’d help him figure it out, if he wanted her to.

He knows she would.

The day after they kissed in Greenwich Park, Jeff spent all morning trailing Annie around art galleries wondering whether to kiss her again, not sure if the whole thing had been an adrenaline-filled one-off that happens sometimes. He was pretty occupied by that thought as they headed across Trafalgar Square towards The National Gallery, when they both noticed a young boy perched alone on the edge of one of the fountains, his face crumpled red as he cried out for his parents around panicked shuddery breaths. It had only been a minute until the boy spotted his dad at the fountain opposite, but it was enough to elicit the memory Jeff had long tried to push aside.

“Aww.” Annie had practically sagged in relief. “I hope he’s okay.”

“Kids are resilient. He’ll forget about it soon enough.”

“I don’t know about that. This kind of thing could traumatize a child for the rest of their life.”

“Easy there, Britta.” He grinned at her sharp breathy gasp. “My dad left me at the zoo once and I’m fine.”

Annie had whirled to face him, eyes bright with interest, the way she always reacted when he offered a crumb of information about his past. “What happened?”

“Nothing. I watched the monkeys for hours while he went to buy a six-pack of beer. I only know that because I saw the empty cans in the car afterwards but still.” Jeff pointed at himself with both hands and mouthed, “Fine.”

But then he glanced at the boy being pacified with kisses and candy and his throat had tightened with a warring mix of envy and empathy, and it must have shown on his face how he really felt remembering that moment — six years old and standing there alone — and Annie stepped closer with a look that made him want to tell her things he never told anyone, things he barely acknowledged to himself.

“Okay, so maybe I’m not fine,” he admitted. “Maybe I’m some kind of masochist for wanting to find the man who could do that to his own kid. But whatever.”

“That doesn’t make you a masochist. Everyone wants to know who and where they come from. That’s a pretty universal feeling, Jeff.”

“And here I thought I was something special.”

“I’m sorry to shatter the dream,” she’d smiled. “It might not make sense after he hurt you but it’s normal, isn’t it? To want your parents to love you? Despite everything, sometimes I’d like to hear from my mom. Now and then, I think a hug would be nice. She never...” Annie’s whole face had soured and she shook her head rapidly. “I changed my mind.”

“What?”

“Let’s forget about the Gallery. We’ll sit in the sunshine and you can get your tan on while we both rant about who drew the shortest straw when they were handing out parents.”

“Uh, did you not hear the story about the zoo and the abandonment, Annie? That was classic bad parenting right there. Clearly I win. Or lose. I mean, it really depends on your viewpoint.”

“Okay, so we’ll find a bar and toast to bad parents in general or something. Work with me here.”

He smiled softly, so in awe of what she was willing to do to make him happy. “You know, I’ll deny it if you ever mention I said this but I might need reminding once in a while why I’m doing this, why I’m looking for him. That it’s, that _I’m_ —”

“Not special?”

He matched her crafty little grin but she had sobered and nodded quietly and Jeff knew then that he didn’t have to ask, that he _never_ had to ask. She’d be there for him, always, no matter what.

“You’re my friend,” she’d said. “I’ll do anything to help you. You know that.”

The conviction in her voice had combined with the reassuring strength of her fingers trailing down his forearm, and the trust she offered so freely took root within him as he looked between her hand and her face and back again, and the only option he had was to kiss her, soft and slow while he swallowed her gasp of surprise and she rocked on her tiptoes to meet him and...

The blinds wave a metallic dance against the window frame, stirring him from his reverie, and Jeff glances at his phone where he dumped it on the kitchen counter, chewing on the inside of his mouth for a moment. He takes two steps towards it but halts immediately, all that courage weakened by a different memory of Annie this time — when he left her in Paris and how she wouldn’t, couldn’t look at him — and Jeff spins away because things _were_ different now, everything _had_ changed, even though everything around him looks exactly the same.

With one final look at his dad’s number, Jeff snatches his phone and keys and hurries back out of the door.

 

~x~

 

One aimless drive later, Jeff finds himself sitting at Shirley’s kitchen table surrounded by brownie-covered wire racks, a cup of coffee lukewarm beneath his fingertips. There’s a laundry basket full of Spiderman bedding on the counter and he stifles a smile every time his eye catches the _Iron Man_ action figure peeking out from the crumpled sheets.

“And this is Ben wearing them in the bathtub,” Shirley grins, scrolling to the next photo on her phone. “And here he is wearing them at the table. I know he shouldn’t but I can’t resist that little face, oh he’s so—”

“Shirley,” Jeff says, weary now. “That’s nice and adorable and all the other adjectives people use to describe toddlers in Nemo arm floats, but can we please talk about something else?”

“Sure, Mr Topic of Conversation,” she mutters curtly. “But you’ve barely said a word since you arrived. You know my child-free time is precious, Jeffrey. I could be watching Forensic Files or Oprah reruns right now because Oprah gets it and _clearly_ you don’t!”

“Uh, _you_ invited me remember, and what does that even mean?”

“It means I’m bored and you’ve gotta give me something to work with here,” she whines. “People usually have plenty to talk about after a trip to London.”

“You’re right. Let’s see.” Jeff squints unseeingly while he pretends to think. “Taxis are expensive. Big Ben isn’t that big and no, not everyone sounds like the Queen.”

“This is like getting blood from a damn stone,” Shirley grumbles huffily but persists anyway, her voice extra sweet when she says, “What about photos? Everyone takes pictures on vacation.”

“It wasn’t—” Jeff hangs his head slightly, trying to remember why coming here felt like such a good idea. After a moment he shifts to dig his phone from his jeans, taps a few buttons and hands it to Shirley before he has time to fully consider what he’s doing. “Here.”

“Aww!” she coos an instant later. “She looks happy.”

Jeff allows his gaze to slip to the screen of his phone lit with a picture of Annie on the London Eye, like he didn’t spend his flight memorizing every corner of it, every detail. She’s wearing the blue sundress that first caught his attention that day that feels like a lifetime ago, pressed up against the glass of the capsule as she paused from taking photographs of the view. The moment crawls into him, as soothing as Annie had been that day after nothing but frustration over his dad, and it’s the memory of her bounce of excitement that teases his lips now, the same bright-eyed delight for everything that had him taking a picture without much thought and she had absolutely no idea and still doesn’t.

“Yeah,” he murmurs and looks away, clenching his jaw. “She does.”

Shirley’s silent but Jeff can feel her eyes burrowing into the side of his face as he stares at the fridge cluttered with plastic alphabet magnets and crayon drawings and a random flyer for a fundraiser at Shirley’s church. It lifts in a slight papery flutter stirred by the breeze sifting in through the window.

“What about you? Are you happy, Jeff?”

“What?” His neck cracks from turning so quickly. “Why would you ask me that?”

“You tell me. You’re the one sitting here like a sad fancy hobo. And earlier you ate one of my brownies, which usually you throw in the trash. Mmm-hmm, I see you. I’m a mother, Jeffrey. I have eyes in the back of my head.”

“I ate a brownie...?”

“Will you commit to a serious conversation for a change?! Besides, you’re my friend and I want you to be happy.” She slides his phone back across the table, covers his hand with the warmth of her own. “But you’re not, are you?”

Jeff stares at her and then at their hands before he snatches his away and flexes it, the softness of the gesture too heavy somehow. It would be so easy to tell her everything, unload every thought that’s played with his sanity like an itch he can’t scratch or a word on the tip of his tongue he _just can’t_ _fucking_ _remember_ , but this is Shirley. _Shirley_. And despite the number of secret outings for mani-pedis and frappuccinos and afternoons spent making fun of the worst dressed celebrities in _People_ magazine, he can’t talk to her about this, about Annie, because what a goddamn mess that would be.

“I found my dad,” he settles on instead.

“What?!” Shirley gasps, her whole face warped with shock. “When? How?”

“It’s a recent development.” He unhooks her strangled grip from the sleeve of his shirt and brushes out the wrinkles left behind because his brain might be a mess but his clothes don’t have to be. “One of my old work colleagues found him, left his number and address on my voicemail. I called in some old favors before I left for London. Didn’t think they’d come through though.”

“Oh _my_ ,” Shirley says breathily, eyes wide, and Jeff can’t help but think he’s just given her the greatest gossip of her life. “What are you going to do?” she asks.

“I don’t know.” The picture of Annie on the screen of his phone goes dark from inactivity, catching his eye, and Jeff swipes forefinger and thumb across his eyelids to meet at the bridge of his nose, the pain blooming above his brow so sudden it’s almost blinding. “I’m not ready to think about it.”

“Well, when you are ready—”

“I know. That’s why you’re my favorite.”

“Oh.” Shirley smiles warmly, shoulders scrunching upwards in a waggle of proud delight. “I won’t tell anyone.”

“I think it’d be better that way, you know, for the good of the group.”

“Of course,” she chuckles, and taps the side of her nose.

They share a smile across the table, the way they always do in small honest moments like these — so few and far between — but the room falls quiet again, that icky crawling quiet that clings to everything like wet sand, and Jeff stands abruptly to disturb it.

Shirley’s house was supposed to be full of kids and noise and no time to think — not this. _That’s_ why he came here.

He hesitates on the spot for a moment before wandering over to the counter for something — anything — to do, plucking the _Iron Man_ action figure from the laundry and fiddling with one of its arms. The little plastic hinges squeak as it moves.

“I used to collect toys like this,” he says. “Or I wanted to.”

“Aww, me too.” Shirley smiles fondly. “It was all about Star Wars when we were kids though.”

“I remember. I had my eye on Han Solo but the Stormtrooper always looked kind of cool. I asked my dad to buy me one but.” Jeff catches himself and clears his throat, tossing the toy back into the laundry basket. “Whatever.”

Shirley frowns, more out of concern that confusion. “Are you sure you don’t want to talk about it?”

“What’s to talk about?” Jeff moves over to the refrigerator and starts rearranging the alphabet magnets, fingers itchy with a restless need to keep occupied. “I found my dad and he’s still a dick. Now that’s one person who’ll never change.”

He spells out the word _dick_ but changes it quickly so that Shirley doesn’t see.

“What makes you so sure he hasn’t changed?" she asks. “You did.”

He wants to laugh at that but it’d probably fall forced and flat and he’s not sure he can spare the effort anyway.

“He still lives in Denver.”

“So...?”

“ _So_ , maybe I had this stupid idea that if he’d moved far away there would have been a reason why I never saw him, why he left me staring at the phone every year on my birthday waiting for his call. I guess a lack of proximity was easier to stomach than the fact that he just didn’t give a shit.”

If Annie was here she’d say he was normal or something, that it was okay to feel that way, like she did when they stood in the shadow of Nelson’s Column or that day on the Ponts des Arts, but Annie’s not here, and the anger of it all — of Annie and flings and dumb useless dads — creeps up to clog thick in Jeff’s throat, the rage choking him and his hands into fists, and—

“And I was fine before this, you know? I didn’t need anyone. I’m—” He stops mindlessly playing with the magnets now, deflated, heavy with tiredness and the tense way he’s held his muscles since the moment he woke up. His eyelids feel like stone and he lets them close for just a second.

The sadness, the pity, in Shirley’s eyes is all _too much_.

“I’m used to being on my own,” he says eventually, looking at his feet while he speaks because there’s something so unsettling about honesty and looking his friends in the eye.

Unless that friend is Annie, but she feels like an exception to every one of his rules lately.

“But?” Shirley prompts, still watching him expectantly, smile soft and encouraging, and Jeff has to take a measured breath against the flood of adrenaline skittering beneath his skin with what he’s about to say.

“When I first saw Annie in London she said she wished there was someone there to share it with and at the time I thought that was kind of... naïve? I didn’t tell her that because it wasn’t what she needed to hear and I’m good like that but.” He takes his seat again, practically sighs into it, and watches his finger trace the outline of a flower on the tablecloth. “I don’t know. I guess when I listened to that voicemail earlier, about my dad, I just sort of wanted...”

“Someone there,” Shirley finishes.

Jeff releases a heavy breath, blinking slowly as he shakes his head more out of disbelief than any sort of answer. “Crap.”

Shirley’s gaze drifts away like she’s not sure what to say but when her eyes find his again there’s a cunningness glinting there that would make Jeff feel kind of proud — and maybe slightly turned on — if he was in a better mood.

“Do you have a specific someone in mind? Like maybe, oh, I don’t know, someone whose name starts with the letter A, perhaps?”

Jeff frowns, though his heart starts racing like he’s just done a couple of laps, and is it that fucking obvious?

“Well, Abed is rakishly good looking but not really my type.”

“Cute. But don’t think I don’t know you’re trying to change the subject.”

“Trying, Shirley? I think you doubt my abilities.”

“And I think you doubt mine. Wouldn’t be the first time. It’s a shame I don’t own a foosball table so I could remind you.”

“Ouch.” Jeff clutches at his chest, grinning when Shirley nudges him playfully, but the action disturbs the memory of Annie doing a similar thing; a swat at his chest or a prod against his arm with a fist not as dainty as it looks, followed by an indignant “Jeff!” or recently a kiss laughed against his lips, and he knows she’ll never be that way with him again, playful and teasing and touching him just because. The realization washes his smile away, deepening the lines above his brow and stretching the silence around them again, the air not as light as it was a second ago.

“Jeff.” Shirley’s tone is low and inquisitive now. “Did something happen with you and Annie?”

He frowns because Shirley hasn’t really acknowledged his attraction to Annie beyond disapproving scowls when she catches him staring at her boobs, so he’s genuinely startled by the boldness of her question now. She must read his confusion clearly because she gets this smug, knowing look in her eye and points to the refrigerator in the corner. Jeff’s still pretty baffled as he follows the direction until he sees it, so clear on the front of the fridge: a perfect line of red and yellow plastic letters where he’s unknowingly spelled one name.

_Annie._

Jeff rolls his eyes at himself more than anything but his tummy lurches and the denial, so readily practiced he could recite it in his sleep, surges to the back of his throat. He knows it wouldn’t take much to bullshit his way out of this — that he’s just done the refrigerator equivalent of doodling Annie’s name in his journal — but all he does is sigh, weary and heavy and drawn out.

“I thought we were talking about my dad,” he says.

“And I thought you didn’t want to talk about it.”

“Touché.” He nods, impressed.

“Mmm-hmm. You can tell me, you know. There’s no one here but me.” She pauses. “And the Lord.”

Jeff snorts. “That’ll work.”

“I guess I’ll find out next week at school then.” She inflates her sigh a little. “I’ll probably be the last to know as usual, made to feel like a fool. But that’s okay. If you can do that to a friend, a good friend, your _favorite_ , after everything we’ve been through—”

“Nice try. Your talent for passive aggression is second to none,” he says, but Shirley’s brow rises to bait him, all intense and determined and _knowing_ , and Jeff flinches and looks away.

_Did something happen with you and Annie?_

He’s not even sure where to start because all the time spent with Annie in London and Paris feels so distant now — unreal almost — like a flipbook of moments fluttering so fast between his fingers that they dance the line between truth and trick. The only real evidence is the unsettled ache in his chest and a picture on his phone that he stared at too long and what did that even mean anyway?

_And does it even matter now?_

“Ugghhhhh.” Jeff presses the heels of his hands against his eyelids until his vision whitens from the pressure. “I guess it depends on your definition of something.”

“Uh-uh. I know you don’t think you can fool me with this. Do I look like a fool?” Shirley holds up a finger just as Jeff’s mouth parts to speak. “Don’t even think of answering that, smart ass. Something either happened or it didn’t.”

“It did,” he says, eyes widening.

Shirley arches one brow but doesn’t speak and Jeff mouths a silent _“Fuck”_ as he hunches his shoulders in defense of whatever she’s going to throw at him. He thinks he could make it back to his car with his balls still intact if he performs some kind of distracting lunge and evade maneuver first.

Maybe.

Shirley’s pretty fast when she wants to be.

“Now,” she murmurs eventually. “Was that so difficult?”

“Yes, actually.” The tension strangling Jeff’s muscles loosens slightly but he squints at her, curious now because of all the reactions he envisioned this was definitely not one of them. Not even close. Where’s all the punching and kicking and burning him in hell?

“Why are you not surprised about this?”

Shirley stills, watching him attentively for barely five seconds before she throws her head back with a rumbling joyous laugh that has Jeff widening his eyes and sitting upright in a slow sort of motion, his ribcage pressing hard against the back of the seat vibrating with the sound. He throws a sweeping glance around the kitchen, over his shoulder and back again.

“What...just happened?”

“Oh Jeffrey.” Shirley dabs at one eye with the corner of her apron, her chest heaving sporadically as her laughter fades in fits and bursts. “I’ve been expecting this for a while now. You think I don’t see you making googly eyes at that girl? As I said before. Eyes. In the back of my head. I just wanted you to admit it. I mean, you’re all we’ve been talking about.”

“Wow,” he says flatly. “I’m so glad we could be a source of entertainment for you.”

“Don’t look at me like that! What else is there to talk about? Count your blessings that’s all that happened. At one point, Pierce started a pool on whether you’d come back as a couple but Britta said it was unethical to gamble with people’s emotions.” She shakes her head slightly. “I love that girl but sometimes she ruins all the fun. I could’ve used that $100. Kids aren’t cheap you know!”

“I have no words,” Jeff says slowly. “Actually, I do but you won’t approve of them.”

“No,” Shirley murmurs warningly, her expression darkening for a second. “I won’t.”

Slumping back in his seat, Jeff treads his fingertips across his jawline, the growth there coarser than usual and maybe Shirley had a point about the fancy hobo.

“You know, I gotta say, you are the last person I expected to be okay with...” He fluffs his hands, still unsure how to explain it. “I mean, honestly, I was expecting a giant purse slash face situation here.”

“Oh, don’t get me wrong. I have plenty of reservations. But if Annie makes you happy, well. You should be happy.” Shirley squeezes his wrist gently. “If, however, you do anything to hurt her, my foot will find its way to places no foot should ever go. Got it?”

“So no purses then?”

Her grasp tightens insistently. “ _Got it?_ ”

“OW, easy, I got it.” Jeff snatches his arm away with a wince, curling his hand around his wrist and thumbing a line of crescent-shaped indents. “And I’d never hurt Annie. You know that.”

“You’ve done it before, what’s to say you won’t do it again?” Shirley fingers the small gold cross on her necklace, her mouth scrunching sourly. “I never thought my husband would cheat on me with a stripper but we all know what happened there.”

“What are you talking about?” Jeff glances up from his wrist, more aware of his pulse than a moment ago. “Did Annie say something to you?”

“She doesn’t have to. Yeah. That’s right. Everyone thinks Shirley’s oblivious because Shirley’s only a mother who worries about her kids. But Shirley’s also a woman who senses things. And you hurt that girl.”

There’s a low sweeping wrench in his gut at that, a tug that feels a lot like guilt and regret and all other things he doesn’t want to put a name to, but he plays it off with a noisy scoff.

“Is Shirley gonna keep talking in third person because Jeff would like to tell her that it’s annoying. And I’ve changed my mind. I don’t want to talk about this anymore.”

“Why?” Shirley asks sharply. “Because it’s not what you want to hear?”

“ _Of course_ I want to hear that I’ve hurt someone I care about. _Please_ , tell me more.”

“Don’t get smart with me! I’m just trying to give you some womanly perspective.”

“Well, your perspective sucks. Annie’s...” Jeff scrubs a weary path across his forehead. “She’s. Not interested. So congratulations. I hope you and your reservations will be very happy together.”

“Puh- _lease_ ,” Shirley scoffs. “I don’t know what happened between the two of you and I don’t want to know. Believe me. But you of all people know that relationships are scary and complicated and maybe Annie’s just protecting herself right now. Andre had to do a lot before I fully trusted him again and even now it’s not easy. Lord only knows.”

“Protecting herself?” he spits out, distaste cracking the air. “I’m not a monster, Shirley.”

“No, but you’re a man who probably bruised her heart and we don’t forget things like that, no matter how much we try to convince ourselves otherwise.”

“I never meant to hurt her,” Jeff mumbles, looking around but not really seeing anything but the image of Annie and the wariness he caught in her eyes, and all the times he felt her disappointment blanch right through him like nothing else; moments he’s shelved away to ignore and forget because it was easier that way and goddamn it, he thought she knew that.

Because she kissed him back. She held his hand and teased him with pale pink dresses that went see-through in the rain and dusted his shoulders with kisses when she thought he was asleep, and asked him to take her to bed and _fuck me, please_ and _kiss me, Jeff_ and _I’ll do anything_...

Jeff presses his fingers hard against his temple. “I don’t need to tell you guys that you’re my family because you should know that by now, right? You just know. Some things are obvious. Some things don’t _need_ to be said.”

“Well,” Shirley starts, weighing her words carefully. “Sometimes they do, Jeff. But this is why we have second chances. Maybe if you told her how you feel—”

“And then what? We’d live happily ever after? It doesn’t work like that, Shirley. You should know that.”

“I do. And you mistake me if you think I’m gonna sit here and pretend it’s like a bed of roses. Uh-uh. But if you don’t give something a chance just because it’s hard work sometimes, well, you’re a damn fool.”

“Well, that’s where you’re wrong because I gave it a chance. I asked her out. She said no. End of story. So...what’s new with you? Abed mentioned something about sandwiches...?”

Shirley shakes her head slowly. “ _Men_.”

Jeff rears back, surprised by the change in her voice, the distasteful curl of her lip. “What’s that mean?”

“I’m sorry but that’s not telling the girl how you feel.”

“What more do you want, Shirley? I said I wanted to date her.”

“Oh, well, _forgiiiiive_ me! When you put it like that, what girl wouldn’t fall at your feet?”

“ _Well_ …”

“JEFFREY!” she scolds, slapping his forearm quick and sharp. “I meant tell the girl how she makes you feel, in here.”

She palms at his chest and three years ago Jeff would have laughed at the gesture but now, now his eyes grow wide and panicky and everything sort of warps inside him in a flutter of some unknown he can’t even begin to fathom, and he’s not sure he even wants to.

Instead, he lowers his head to the table and whacks his forehead repeatedly, over and over, _thunk thunk thunk_ , only stopping at the sound of Shirley’s gasp, clear and loud.

“Oh! Oh _my_ ,” she breathes around a note of surprise. “ _Jeffrey_.”

The pause is long enough to draw Jeff’s head up from the table where Shirley’s observing him carefully, eyes wide, hands tented against her mouth before she slowly tucks them underneath her chin.

“Are you...” she starts tentatively. “Are you in love with Annie?”

Something in his chest sinks and soars and the adrenaline scuttles hot beneath his skin, but the only other time Jeff’s ever felt so fucking terrified is the moment Ted strolled into his office and told him they knew, they all knew and the game was up and everything was over, and he realized it wasn’t something he could come back from. Not really.

“Shirley.” He splutters a strangled-sounding laugh. “You asked the same thing about Britta a few months ago. Who’s next? Abed? I told you. Not my type.”

Shifting in his seat he scratches the back of his neck before grabbing his phone, flipping it up and down between finger and thumb and dropping it again, and Shirley’s eyes follow every erratic movement, her mouth parting in a slow and silent, “ _Oh,_ ” her expression softening by degrees as she melts back into her chair, hands clasped against her chest.

“Oh, pumpkin.”

Wrenching his gaze away, Jeff clenches his eyes closed but the image plays out against the back of his eyelids like a photograph he’s stared at far too long.

“Don’t. Just. Don’t look at me like that.”

He shoots upwards and strides into the living room, narrowly avoiding a set of plastic trucks scattered on a playmat in front of the television. He glares at them, biting down the impulse to kick them away in a rage, scraping his hand rough against his stubble while he tries to collect himself, keep it together, steady the race of his pulse and the resounding _what the fuck_ permeating everything until he practically shakes with it.

_He’s in love with Annie._

But right now Jeff doesn’t know where else to go or what to do with this feeling blistering under his skin, and he collapses on the couch, heavy enough that it creaks and thumps the wall behind. Grabbing one of the cushions as he stretches out, he eye rolls hard at the embroidered ‘ _God Bless Our Home and All Who Enter_ ’ as he thrusts it into his face.

“Fuck,” he growls, the sound muffled by the cushion. “FUUUUUCK.”

“O-kay,” Shirley murmurs from the direction of the doorway. “I can see that you’re in crisis which is why I’mma let that kind of language slide. You’re just lucky my babies aren’t here.”

Slowly, Jeff lifts the cushion to stare at the ceiling for a few unblinking, wide-eyed moments, because everything he’s confessed sort of sits there, for all to see. And though no one else is around, the honesty of it all feels too much, too raw and real, stealing all the saliva from his mouth with one ragged swallow.

“ _Holy_ crap. Do you see me? Is this happening right now?”

“I see you,” Shirley smiles softly.

“ _Jesus_.” He presses the cushion back onto his face hard enough to smell the lingering spice of potpourri caught in the material. “I...don’t know what to do,” he mumbles finally, wincing at the uncertainty there because he always knows what to do, even if he doesn’t want to do it.

_Fuck._

“I have an idea,” Shirley says, her voice close enough to cradle him, and when he doesn’t respond they have a little tug of war as she tries to wrestle the cushion away.

“No,” Jeff gasps a lungful of cooler air in its absence. “No ideas. This is not a Hallmark movie, Shirley. This is the real world. Join me, won’t you? It sucks.”

“I think you’ve mistaken me for Abed,” she mutters sharply, smacking the cushion between her palms to re-fluff it. “I’ve given you my advice. It’s up to you what you do with it, that is, if you’re man enough to do anything at all.”

“Challenging my masculinity. Nice.”

Shirley glares at him pointedly, flicking at his legs with the back of her hand and a snappy “Off!” and Jeff swings his feet to the floor, watching as she neatly repositions the cushion to her liking. She catches his gaze once she’s finished but immediately looks away, chin raised haughtily, and Jeff closes his eyes with a heavy sigh.

Life was so much easier when he didn’t give a shit.

“Okay,” he says tiredly, swiping a hand down his face and rising to his feet. “Tell me this idea of yours.”

“I’m not sure if you deserve it now.”

“Hey, you said it yourself. I’m in crisis.”

“Mmm-hmm,” Shirley drones, though her lips quiver as she struggles not to smile and Jeff watches her with a hopeful lip-bitten grin until she breaks.

“Enough! You know how I feel about your puppy dog eyes.”

“Are you blushing, Shirley?” He watches as she ducks her chin and starts fussing with her cardigan. “You are.”

“If you must know,” she says, trying to change the subject. “I was just gonna suggest we go out to take your mind off things. An idle mind is the devil’s workshop, Jeff. And clearly you need to think about something other than the fact that you’re stupidly in love with Annie Edison.”

“Shirley,” he starts, grimacing. “Stop.”

“What do you think, hmm?” she grins, and he just knows she’s getting a real kick out of this right now. “We could go to that _Junkies Java_ place near Greendale that makes low-fat frappuccinos.”

“I think I might need something stronger than that.”

“I really shouldn’t encourage drinking as an escape from your problems—”

“Well, you’re in luck because there’s no encouragement necessary.”

“BUT if you let me finish,” she pauses, wickedness teasing the corners of her mouth. “I might know a place, if you’re interested?”

“Why, Shirley,” he grins, delighted. “I’m _shocked_.”

She chuckles warmly in her throat and fastens her fingers around the offered crook of his arm. “Boy, you don’t know the half of it.”


End file.
